


Face Away From the Sun

by jmcats



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Multi, Summer Fic, larry stylinson - Freeform, ziam, ziam smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 01:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmcats/pseuds/jmcats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam doesn’t want anything to do with love anymore but Louis is certain he's found the perfect guy for Liam -- Niall. The problem is Liam’s not even sure if Niall likes guys and Harry's certain Louis doesn't know anything about love. Still, Liam’s not certain when he starts falling in love with someone else… Someone who’s busy taking care of his sisters for the summer when Liam's supposed to be busy quitting love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Face Away From the Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to create a fic around the song "Loved You First" for a long time now and I also wanted something kind of funny with Louis trying to play matchmaker and it all going horribly wrong for everyone involved. This is what happened. I hope it's worth a read and I promise my next story will somehow be under 30K but once I started going, I couldn't stop.
> 
> Warning: I don't know much about Zayn's sisters and try to characterize them as best as possible so hopefully I'm not burned at the stake for the way they turned out. Also, there's a bit (a lot) of swearing and some graphic smut that I hope doesn't offend anyone.
> 
> Title stolen from lyrics in the song "Calgary" by Bon Iver

Liam is quite certain that, from the tender age of seven all the way to the brooding age of sixteen that he believed in the actuality, definability, and simplistic beauty of love.  He cherished it, from first sight to first words.  He loved the way it brought rose to cheeks, left his lips chapped after the right kiss, fingers intertwined, and conversations he’d stayed up way too late chatting on the phone, even though his mum scolded him, for.  By every definition of the word, from the Valentine’s cards in February to the Christmas gifts he saved every penny for during those snowy December days, it existed in some sinfully tingly way that made him smile as if he knew its depth.

And, somewhere, along that brief year that was age seventeen, he was introduced to what love really meant: passion, confusion, happiness, indescribable pain.  The way it broke a person so simply; the tears and the anger remain steadfast so long after.  Every February lost a bit of that sweetness like those oh so stale candies he’d still be munching on in early March.  And each winter wasn’t as promising no matter how many of his classmates drug him around the town to sing carols or how many cups of warm, orange spiced tea his mum poured him while he waited for a single phone call to set his spirit afire.  Every summer seemed too long and, by the age of eighteen, he vowed never to be a victim of that tried and true ‘summer love’ thing most of his mates had fallen victim to since he was twelve chasing some little curly haired girl named Isabelle.

“I have a solution to your fantastically troublesome problem my dear Liam.”

Liam doesn’t know why his eyebrow arches, but he learned a long time ago that most of the things that come out of Louis Tomlinson’s mouth leave the average person shocked, stuttering or speechless.  Louis has been his friend for quite a bit over two years and, as much as Liam tries, Louis can still surprise him with his bursts of uncontainable energy, manic laughter, always styled hair with his chinos rolled up above the ankles, white Tom’s snug on his feet, colorful stripped shirts, and a way of making everything from the weather to a child’s lullaby dramatic.   He’s Liam’s friend, _best_ friend really but there are moments, as in this one, where Louis’ oversized voice almost scares Liam into the deepest end of the pool they’re sitting around with only their feet dipped inside.

Still, Liam wouldn’t have him any other way.

“My problem?” Liam asks, glancing over his shoulder as Louis leans backward a little, sunglasses perched on the end of his nose and Liam can see every strip of light that reflects off the clear water dancing across Louis’ perfectly oceanic blue eyes.

Louis is nodding his head, sun highlighting his face as he flicks a foot out of the water, droplets flying.  His grin is a little too calm and, even in the sun, Liam can spot those barely-there freckles across his cheek as it rises with a thicker grin over thin pink lips.

Louis is something resembling one of those popular, cocky kids in school from the best 90’s movies his sisters made Liam watch when he was too young to understand why the most average looking girl in school always got the popular guy in the end.  It’s not on purpose because Liam knows, deep down, Louis is actually a brilliant friend who takes care of his younger sisters like they were his daughters, listens to Liam when he needs to talk, buys Liam expensive liquor to compensate for not knowing what to say when Liam talks about his ex, and encourages Liam to get out of this town because “If I wasn’t a shitless coward, I’d be long gone.  I’d be doing this great town a tremendous service by heading off to a great University and becoming something more than a son of some well-to-do family whose sole purpose in life is to shop and shag whatever moves on two legs.”

“What about Niall?” Louis suggests as if Liam has a clue what he’s referring to and Liam’s carefully tracing the pads over his fingers over his buzzed hair, the prickles tickling as he kicks his feet back and forth in the clear water carelessly.

“What about Niall?”

Liam peeks his head up when a beautiful brunette stands over them, red and pink polka dot bikini soaked with slightly tanned skin slicked with droplets from the water.  She’s pulling her once wavy hair up and then back behind her shoulders, the sun tipping over her like an angelic dream.  She’s got high cheekbones, red lips, and that smile is infectious in ways Liam hasn’t been able to describe since meeting Eleanor last summer.

She finds a seat between Louis and Liam on the edge of the pool, dipping her feet in and she’s glancing at them with curious eyes.  Liam merely shrugs, leans forward to run his fingers over the surface of the water, watching a few kids splash around while their parents pretend to watch from the outskirts.

“Oi El, private convo, yeah?” Louis complains halfheartedly, sitting back up and Eleanor’s giving him a light shove with a giggle.

“Oh please Lou, you two have _nothing_ private when I’m involved.  Liam’s too nice and you’re too daft.  You _need_ me,” Eleanor says, turning her head to give Liam a small wink and he’s leaning just a little further to look past her, nodding at Louis.

Louis throws his arms up theatrically with a sigh, eyes rolling behind those sunglasses as he kicks his feet back and forth impatiently.  He’s still a child even though he’s older than Liam and it comes out at the most opportune times Liam thinks.  He’s letting the sun soak into the back of his neck, beating unrelentingly until he’s warm everywhere.

There’s something about spending his summer after the first year of Uni with nothing to do but enjoy it that doesn’t sit well with Liam’s conscience.  Sure, he takes up odd jobs here and there, a couple of shifts down at a bakery, some days helping here at the rec center for Louis’ parents as a lifeguard, even spending some time tutoring at the nearest secondary school, though he was shit at most subjects in school, but nothing committal.  But he’s not Louis; he can’t depend on his parents’ money to survive.  Or Eleanor who makes quite a few quid doing fashion stories for some magazine based out of England, where she plans to move to once she’s saved up enough money; and enough courage.

No, Liam works for everything he’s got.  He works because he doesn’t feel normal without it.  He works because it’s always been his best distraction, outside of Uni, from that thing called love that cripples him when he lets it get a hold of him.

“So what about Niall?” Eleanor asks again and Liam’s watching her playfully drip droplets of water over Louis’ shoulder, nose crinkling with a laugh when Louis scoffs at her.

Liam rubs at the small patch of hairs growing on the edge of his chin, grinning a little.  He remembers that relationship, last summer, that Eleanor and Louis pretended to have even though they didn’t know it was just a charade.  Eleanor genuinely loved Louis and, by August, Louis genuinely loved the thought of snogging men more than he did the idea of spending his life with Eleanor.  Liam flinches a little, remembers the end and the way he let Eleanor cuddle to him for hours holding back tears and squeezing his hand until the shape of her fingertips were embedded there for days.  He’s not even sure how they still remained friends but there’s something about Louis that’s impossible to hate and, without question, Liam’s certain Louis sincerely loves the friendship the two have had since they were kids with nothing better to do but chase each other around the tennis courts at the rec center while their parents socialized and drank spiked lemonade through fancy straws.

Louis sighs once more, peeking past Eleanor to look on Liam before frankly saying, “I think you should go on a date with him.”

His eyes are wide, mouth ajar, and he thinks he feels his heart slipping slowly down his esophagus towards the bile in his stomach.  His fingers grip the hot edge of the pool, feet no longer kicking back and forth in the water.  His brow lowers some, eyes peering at Louis because he’s grinning with that smugness that Liam despises.  Eleanor’s cackling, head tipped back and he knows she thinks it’s a fantastically absurd idea but _all_ of Louis’ plans usually were.

“A _date?_   With _Niall?_   Niall Horan, yeah?” Liam asks and it’s all taffy-stuck against the roof of his mouth.  He drags a hand down the side of his face, thinks of shoving Louis into the deep end of the pool when he nods at Liam, head tilting back to soak in some more of the sun.

“You’re right arseholed, you know that?” Eleanor giggles out, playfully shoving Louis but he merely arches an eyebrow and Liam fits his stomach knot up.  If he knows anything, it’s when Louis is being genuinely serious.  This, unfortunately, is one of those times.

“He’s manic,” Liam mumbles out, turning his eyes away to watch the sun reflect off the water.  He’s thinking about drowning in it.  “You’re mad Tommo.”

“Come on Li, be serious,” Louis pleads, sitting upright again.  Liam breathes outward, counts to twenty and it’s not helping.

“Is this about that time we sat around and got pissed on your mother’s good wine?  I knew we shouldn’t have played Truth or Dare,” Eleanor sighs out, fingers tugging through her damp hair.  Those big brown doe eyes are on Liam but he won’t look back.

“You said the thought of asking out, maybe even snogging a guy has crossed your mind more than once,” Louis insists and his voice is a little too loud, Liam ducking his head because he hopes none of the kids wadding in the water actually _hear_ Louis.

Liam twists his lips sideways and he might vaguely remember having a cup or two too many with Louis and Eleanor that night when he was desperately depressed over the end of his last relationship and the wine started to taste much better after the first _eight_ sips.  The hangover the next day is a much clearer memory, as is the way his stomach was twisted up more than half the day after but he knew better than to get sloshed with Louis when he’s only had one good kidney since he was an infant.

And maybe he has had a thought or two about dating a guy, finding more than a few attractive as they do laps in the pool while he pretends not to watch from his lifeguard chair but committing to the idea?  Pushing aside years of training in being with a woman, the soft skin, plush lips, thick hair for his fingers to drag through felt… Well, it was rather enticing in ways he couldn’t imagine.

“So you want me to ask out your friend Niall?” Liam wonders, elbows balancing on his knees as he finally turns his head to look at Louis.

“You don’t have to,” Louis starts and his smirk is tilting higher in that way that Liam hates before he’s adding, “I kind of already did.”

Liam can’t swallow, can’t suppress the way he is now envisioning the way he’s going to hold Louis’ head under the water as he drowns.  His ears itch, his skin feels feverish, and he can feel that tickling blush smacking his cheeks as he glares at Louis.

“You do know he’s going to castrate you, yeah?  I’m not coming to the funeral,” Eleanor says flatly, brow lifting as Louis shrugs nonchalantly.

“He doesn’t even like guys,” Liam snaps and his voice drops off a little because he can feel the eyes of a few parents as they pass by.  His shoulders slump and he wishes gravity would tip upside down and throw Louis from that spot he’s perched with an arched eyebrow, sunglasses hanging on the tip of his nose, and a smile curling at the corners of his lips.

“You don’t know this,” Louis replies with a shrug, pushing the sunglasses back up.  “Besides, I didn’t directly ask him to go out with you.  I merely suggested it’d be a splendid idea if you two got together for a chat, possibly dinner, and he didn’t balk at the idea or anything.”

“Oh, brilliant.  That sounds like you didn’t directly ask him at all,” Eleanor laughs out, resting a hand on Liam’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze.  “Did you ask him does he snog on the first date or go right for the shag also?”

“Shut it El,” Louis hisses and there’s a gleaming smile on her lips Louis can’t remove.  He’s rolling his eyes, peeling off his sunglasses to look on Liam, pointing them directly at him.  “It’s not like you can’t say he’s a bit dishy, right?  And you’re quite fit so what would it hurt?  He’s a nice guy and you’re insufferably sweet.  How could you not fancy him?”

Liam chews on his bottom lip as Louis jerks his head toward the opposite end of the pool and he remembers Niall – Irish, sun-bleached blonde hair that’s either a mess or styled sloppily, midday summer blue eyes with that incredibly contagious wide smile who’s jokes are always a little too far to the left for Louis’ taste but Liam always seems to get a chuckle.  Liam hasn’t been around Niall enough to know the little details like whether or not he was even into guys; guys like Liam.  He knew Niall could be loud like Louis but without that endless spark of energy.  Niall’s quiet at times, laidback in ways Louis could never be and, when he does speak, it’s more profound than it is polarizing.

Liam sighs, looks on the way those full cheeks are pushed upward as Niall laughs on the other end of the pool, playfully fighting with his best mate Harry.  Harry’s taller than Niall, soft curls that are always put into place like Louis’ hair but probably with a lot fewer products and effort.  His eyes are light like Niall’s but they’re a solid emerald with a liveliness Liam’s certain few can escape.  There’s tattoos inked all over Harry, splotches of artwork here and there that Liam can barely make out except for the stars dancing on the underside of his arm, the two swallows on the opposite sides of his collarbone or the massive ship sketched on his arm.  Harry’s lips are that perfect, natural shade of red, and his cheeks flex dimples with that cheeky, boyish charm not many women walked past without blinking twice.

“He is cute Liam,” Eleanor whispers, leaning on his shoulder.  Liam nods slowly, watches the way Niall cannonballs into the pool with a hoot from Harry.  When Niall’s head breaks the surface, Liam feels his smile grow with Niall’s as he rattles off something to Harry, accent thick and proud.

“And he’s in a band.  You know how _hot_ band guys are,” Louis beams and Liam doubts Louis catches he and Eleanor rolling their eyes at him.  Louis thinks _any_ man is hot, depending on the day of the week defines their levels of fancy for Louis.  But Liam is aware Niall is in a small band that really consists of Niall playing guitar, Harry wailing through a few covers and original pieces, with two other friends Liam doesn’t really know on guitar and drums.  They mainly did secondary school dances and parties, nothing big, not that Liam ever went to any of their shows.  He knows it’s all flat lager, too many shots of cheap vodka, and he doesn’t feel like coming home smelling like smoke from all the joints probably passed around.

“A date with Niall,” Liam says lowly, tests the weight of it against his tongue.

“Exactly,” Louis cheers, reaching past Eleanor to give Liam a slap against his shoulder and the imprint of his hand burns Liam’s skin under the heat of the sun.  “And I have the perfect opportunity for you to chat it up with him.  My dear friend Zayn invited me over to his flat for dinner tomorrow evening.  I in turn invited Niall who, unfortunately, invited that pretentious twat Harry Styles.  You do remember Zayn, yeah?”

Liam presses his lips together, tries but he doesn’t truly.  Then again, Liam doesn’t remember many of Louis’ “friends” because they’re so many throughout Louis’ life; ones that actually mattered and ones that invited Louis to all the great parties around town, bought him great alcohol, or stroked his ego when he needed it.  Liam wonders which one Zayn is?

“Oh, lovely, where’s my invite?” Eleanor asks with bright eyes and batting lashes.

“Sorry El, it’s a guys’ night,” Louis replies flatly, shrugging when a small frown pulls at her lips.  “Unless you can come up with the perfect scheme to shag one Harry Styles so I don’t have to trouble with him.”

Eleanor sighs, leaning back this time and the sun is bronzing her skin.  “I don’t know why you hate him so much.”

Liam does.  He remembers that party, the one where Louis was three steps passed pissed and Liam was letting Louis hang on him in a corner with a red cup splashing juice and vodka around as he not-so-quietly rated every guy that passed by, not that any of them were sober enough to pay attention to Louis.  But when Harry strolled by, too young to be at any Uni party with bright eyes, cherub like smile, and those curls, Louis nearly stumbled off of Liam to try and chat with him.  Harry ignored him, something many people didn’t do with Louis Tomlinson, and Louis vowed to never speak to men like Harry again.  Liam thinks that was a mission pretty hard to accomplish three days later when they first met Niall down at the rec center’s pool, Harry following close behind and smiling at Louis as if that night never happened.  Liam still laughs to himself when he thinks of the way Louis _did_ remind Harry of that “utterly tragic night,” dramatic arms waving and sharpness to his tone that left Harry’s face falling and eyes peering.

“So you’ll come, yeah?” Louis asks.

Liam chances another look at Niall: half-eaten burger in hand with a basket of chips to his side, sunbathed smile tracing over pinkish lips and crinkled blue eyes as he laughs at Harry.  The sun is sleek against his pale skin but it’s shimmering like glitter in the air.  Liam lets a smile creep from the corners of his lips, leans back with Eleanor before finally replying, “Sure.  Why not.”

**

Liam’s pulling at the collar of his plaid button down, fiddling with the sleeves six times over.  He scrubs a hand over his buzzed hair, contemplating knocking on the door a few times but he doesn’t.  He wishes Louis would’ve rode with him down to Zayn’s but Louis insisted on being there earlier because he wanted to be pleasantly drunk to deal with the likes of Harry or possibly because he just wanted to be pleasantly drunk, period, but it didn’t matter to Liam.

It’s not that he’s nervous, but he _is_.  This wasn’t an official date, not by any means, but he’s almost certain Louis has it set up that way.  He wonders if Zayn might be in on it too.  Maybe even Harry though Liam doubts Louis could stomach a conversation long enough with Harry to manage pulling him in on this set up.  But maybe Niall didn’t mind the idea of spending some time with Liam… and three other guys.  Maybe by the end of the night they’ll be pissed enough that the idea of going back to Liam’s flat wouldn’t be so unheard of.  Liam shakes his head, curses himself, and, really, he wasn’t supposed to be _considering_ the idea of being with Niall at all.

Liam swallows a couple of times, struggling to wipe away the sweat from his palms as he drags them over his trousers.  He quickly lifts his hand, rapping his knuckles on the door briskly because he’s sure that if he doesn’t now, he might just walk away, call Louis and fake an illness.  There’s a thump the second his hand lowers, some hollering that almost sounds like Louis but it’s muffled through the door and then the door is swinging open.

Liam’s expecting Louis, maybe even Harry, but he has to glance downward to a petite girl with big bluish eyes, fair skin with plastic necklaces far too big for her neck dangling, soft auburn hair, and was she wearing a pink feather boa?  He thinks maybe he’s in the wrong place because she looks nothing like one of Louis’ little sisters and wasn’t he supposed to be meeting Niall, not a little girl?

She’s blinking up at him for a minute, one hand holding the doorknob with the other on her hip before she’s grinning, turning her head to scream out, “He’s here!”

“Oi, who let this little princess answer the door?”

Liam sighs a little when he hears Louis, leans in the doorway as the little girl scampers off and then Louis’ dragging him in by the wrist, easing an arm around Liam’s shoulders as he leads him.  He glances at Louis, all red and blue stripped shirt with bright suspenders, gel-slicked hair, trousers rolled up over his ankles, and those mischievous blue eyes that Liam can already read a plot behind.

“Sorry mate, I was trying to uncork this fabulous bottle of wine when you arrived,” Louis says nonchalantly with a hand waving in the air.  He’s pulling Liam down the long hall toward the living area and Liam can spot Harry seated in a chair at the entrance, curls trapped behind a black beanie with a finger swiping over his phone.  Louis’ lips are twisted into a smile as he rambles off, “That was Zayn’s little sister Safaa at the door.  She’s just as dangerous as she is cute though, so be careful.  His other sister Waliyha is a doll though.  Wasn’t expecting them here but I’ll explain that later.  Oh, and Niall cancelled.  Something about family being in town.”

Liam feels his brow scrunch, gives Louis a glare as the other man grins.  He knows Louis is trying to play it off but, honestly, he could’ve told Liam before he even showed up.  Not that he only showed up for Niall because he actually _likes_ Harry and, unlike Louis, can carry a long conversation with Harry without wanting to gauge out his own eyes.  But wasn’t Niall the purpose for him being invited in the first place?

“Oi, could you not be rude,” Louis hisses at Harry, kicking the secondhand black chair he’s slouched in.

Liam catches the glare Harry shoots Louis, green eyes turning a little dark, before he’s smiling up at Liam.  “Hey Liam.”

“Harry,” Liam replies politely with a nod but then Louis’ dragging him further into the room.

The flat is nice, a bit small, but still pleasant.  The living area is dressed with a cream-colored settee, a small black couch that looks like it matches the chair Harry’s plopped in.  There’s a glass coffee table in the middle and a small flat screen hung against the wall.  There’s a few silver frames around the walls with family pictures and Liam doesn’t recognize any of the faces except the few of Safaa.  There’s some artwork framed behind glass hung against the walls; some were freehand in black and white while others are inked with colors, almost comic book style that catch Liam’s eyes immediately.  There’s a _Dark Knight_ poster framed against the wall leading to another stretch of a hallway and Liam spots three doors that are probably bedrooms and a bathroom.  He peeks a little past Louis toward the kitchen, a dining table just on the outside with hardwood floors and it’s a simple table with nothing special on it.

“I don’t think you’re rude Harry.” The voice is foreign and Liam catches a thin girl skip into the room, long dark hair bouncing with sections of it falling over her forehead and right eye.  She’s got beautiful olive skin, deep brown eyes with defined cheeks and glossy pink lips.  Liam spots a picture of an older version of the girl in a picture on the wall and assumes it must be a picture of Zayn’s mother, the two mirrored images of each other.

“Thanks Waliyha,” Harry grins out, letting the younger girl throw her arms around his neck from behind the chair.  “He’s just a twat anyway.”

Louis’ lips curl into a sneer and Liam bites back a laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck as Louis drops his arm away.  He’s sure Louis would flip Harry off if Waliyha wasn’t looking at them with curious eyes.

“Liam, right?” Waliyha asks, a small wave from behind Harry before she’s offering him a soft smile.

Liam nods, waves back with a matching grin.  He thinks to speak but then he hears “Haz, you might want to come check on these fajitas.  You know I’m shit in the kitchen.  Might as well have ordered take-away if nobody plans on dying tonight,” and Liam’s turning his head to watch another man walk into the room.

Liam wants to remember Zayn, but he doesn’t and he’s quite sure that he’d remember someone as handsome as this.  His cheeks are defined like Waliyha’s, jawline sharp with full pink lips.  His eyes are piercing, almost brown but there’s gold circling them and leaving them light like the tips of sunlight live in them.  They’re framed by long lashes that are almost feminine but those eyebrows are set and everything about the way the rest of his face sits is masculine, if not youthful.  His hair is lengthy and choppy but still styled with fringes falling over his forehead, dark but not quite black in shade.  His skin is gold like those ribbons in his eyes, a little fuller in definition compared to Waliyha’s but he’s wiry like she is.  There’s scruffs of hair chasing the outline of his jaw and chin, a light outline of hair on Zayn’s upper lip and Liam can spot scattered tattoos along Zayn’s forearm and just beneath the collar of that loose hanging thin-stripped black and white shirt he’s wearing.

“No bad language Zayn,” Safaa whines with a furrowed brow as she smacks Zayn’s leg.

“Sorry Saf,” Zayn snorts, rubbing gently over her hair before she’s pouting, strutting away with hands on her hips.  He glances back up, meets Liam’s eyes and Liam feels a rush of heat smack against his cheeks because he realizes he’s been _staring_ at Zayn and that was definitely inappropriate.

“Hey Liam,” Zayn says, his voice a little smaller now but there’s a warm smile pressed over his lips.

“Hiya Zayn,” he says, his voice a little choked and he’s scratching at the back of his head.  He feels like a twit but Zayn’s nodding at him, pretending he doesn’t notice.

“Right.  The food.  Be right back,” Harry announces, leaping from the chair and Liam snaps his head in his direction, does everything not to bother to look at Zayn again because that man couldn’t be _that_ fascinating, right?  He wasn’t even there to see Zayn, really.  But Niall’s not here and suddenly he’s reminded that he’s definitely going through with that plot to drown Louis the next time they’re at the rec center; no witnesses.

Liam’s easing down onto the couch as Louis barks something at Harry about fajitas and wine being an awful combination, stomping into the kitchen and Liam’s waiting for Harry to emerge from the kitchen with blood on his hands.  Safaa’s hopping onto the couch next to Liam, grin on her lips as she fiddles with a Nintendo DS, ignoring his existence.  Waliyha’s walking by, softly humming something resembling Katy Perry and Liam doesn’t know why he wants to harmonize: _You make me feel like I’m living a teenage dream._

“I’m sorry.  This probably isn’t what you were expecting,” Zayn says, slipping onto the settee to the right of the couch.  He’s leaning forward with his hands on his knees and there’s still something undeniably shy about the way Zayn looks like he’s on edge the whole time.  It’s almost painful but Liam merely smiles, leaning back into the couch.

“It’s fine.  I don’t mind,” Liam replies, waiting a beat for Zayn to smile back at him.  It’s warm like the first days of spring and Liam can’t help the way his own smile grows.

“Louis didn’t know my sisters were staying with me for a few weeks this summer while my parents are away in Bradford.  They were supposed to be on holiday but my grandfather got pretty ill and they decided to skip town and look after him.  My old sister is with them and I decided to look after Saf and Liyha,” Zayn explains, eyes glancing fleetingly between Liam and the floor.  He’s rubbing his hands together, thoughtful, and Liam wants to reach out and assure Zayn its okay again but he merely nods along.  Zayn’s looking up, a little crooked smile as he adds, “I sorted it would be best if they spent a proper summer with me instead of worrying about our grandfather from one of my aunts’ houses.  Not that this place is much fun, but it’s better than nothing.”

Liam wants to say something, words brimming against his lips, but he doesn’t.  He nods once more, welcoming smile on his lips and Zayn’s got a lopsided one of his own.  Liam doesn’t _know_ Zayn well enough to convince him that he’s doing an amazing thing, the _responsible_ thing.  He doesn’t want to admit that he’s not certain he could if given the chance though he knows he would.  It’s always been in him – doing the right thing, the thing that’s always hardest at the end of the day but the one he does whether he’s exhausted, frustrated, or simply doesn’t have the strength.  And maybe being cooped up in this flat for the entire summer wasn’t ideal, but neither was a hospital room or some relatives’ where the sun sets and rises without a drop of something interesting to do.

“The nosh is served,” Harry announces, perfectly wide cherry grin on his lips as he strolls back into the main room.  Louis’ following behind, still grumbling with a fresh glass of wine and Zayn’s chuckling lowly, watching the way Louis elbows past Harry.  Safaa’s cheering with waving hands and kicking feet while Waliyha is grinning from her spot in the chair, the one once occupied by Harry.

“I do hope no one else needs any wine,” Louis sighs, plopping into Liam’s lap and Liam tries not to grimace at the weight or the way Louis’ glass nearly tips red wine all over his trousers.  Louis looks down into Liam’s eyes and then back at Harry before sighing out, “Looks like I’m going to need the whole bottle.”

“Twat,” Harry grumbles, rolling his eyes visibly for Louis to see before spinning on his heels and stomping back into the kitchen.

“I heard that!”

“Wanted you to,” Harry calls back to Louis, flipping him off and Liam’s throwing a hand over Safaa’s eyes while Zayn falls into a fit of laughter.

Dinner seems to move without much fuss though Harry steals the bottle of wine from Louis halfway through and he glares at Louis with eyes daring the other to speak up.  Louis shrinks a little and Liam knows no one has ever been able to silence Louis like that.  He grins, mouthful of those delicious fajitas Harry’s put together and he catches Zayn glances at him with a diminutive smirk, chewing on his thumbnail and averting his eyes when Liam looks at him for too long.  Liam cocks an eyebrow upward but then Harry is toasting Louis and his good wine while Louis glares at him from across the table.  Liam has to fasten a hand to Louis’ thigh to prevent him from leaping out of his chair and strangling Harry.

“So you’re going to take us swimming, right?  Mum takes us swimming _every_ summer,” Safaa whines, mouth half-full and the words come a bit mushed together.

“Well,” Zayn starts, rubbing the back of his neck with his lips tilting a bit downward.

“Safaa, you know Zayn can’t swim.  There’s no way he’s risking his life by taking us to the pool,” Waliyha states, her tone a bit stern toward her younger sister.  She’s nodding at Zayn, justified in her own mind, before taking a long sip of her lemonade.

Liam catches the frown that slips over Safaa’s lips, delicate blue eyes dropping and she’s forking her food around her plate.  He almost winces at the sound of Zayn’s sigh and he wants that thing tugging at his heart to stop but it doesn’t.

“I’ll gladly swim with you two if Zayn brings you,” Liam finally speaks up and he doesn’t even know why because two sets of eyes light up when they look on him and he’s struggling to repress that grin tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“Really?” Waliyha asks, a little doubtful.

“Smashing,” Safaa cheers and she sounds like she’s spent a few too many trips to visit her brother following Louis around.  “Going to for a swim with Liam and DJ Malik, DJ Malik.”  She’s rocking back and forth in her chair, dancing with her head thrown back and Liam spots the way Zayn almost joins her, chanting low underneath his breath.

Waliyha’s eyes roll once more, an exasperated sigh and puff of air pushing pieces of her hair from in front of her eyes.  “You can barely swim Safaa.”

“I can too,” Safaa fusses, tongue sticking out at her sister.  Liam shoots her a small grin and he catches the way pink sweeps her cheeks before she’s whispering, “I can… Kinda.”

“I’ll teach you,” Liam whispers back, heart wrapped in golden strings of joy when her eyes brighten and a smile glosses over her lips.

“Bloody brilliant,” Louis says mockingly, swishing around the wine in his glass before slurping on it, eyes offering Liam a contemptuous glare.

“You’d do that?” Zayn asks, his voice somewhat hushed and he’s leaning over the table a little like it’s supposed to be a secret between he and Liam.

Liam nods, rubbing at the back of his head and he can feel blush river through his cheeks when Zayn smiles a little, too delicate for it be anything more than a friendly form of gratitude but Liam memorizes the way it feels slipping over his conscience.

“Yeah, yeah.  Niall and I would gladly help out too.  Any excuse to get a little more time in the sun,” Harry adds, a quick hand pushing loose strands from his eyes and Waliyha’s lighting up like those angelic white lights decorating the rooftops of the small houses during Christmas.

“Absolutely brilliant, Styles.  Tagging onto my mate’s suggestion makes you look splendidly _useless_ ,” Louis remarks, half-bitten grin on his lips as Harry shoots him a scowl.  Louis tips his glass in Harry’s direction, grinning out, “You’re invaluable, really.”

“You little, pompous –“ Harry starts but Louis’ raising a hand, cutting him off.

“Speaking of Niall,” Louis grins out, turning in Liam’s direction and Liam hates to admit he is not a fan of that sinful glimmer in Louis’ sea blue eyes.  “I chatted with him and he should be free later on in the week.  I’m thinking a dinner date would be fantastic.  Some place nice, quiet, _intimate_ maybe.”

“So you’re serious about this, huh?” Harry asks and Louis peering at Harry over his shoulder, face scrunched in anger.  Harry throws a hand up, sighing out, “Fucking bullshit Tomlinson.”

“Harry, _language_ ,” Safaa barks and Liam giggles because she truly is too old for her petite body.  She’s shaking a fork at him and Harry’s grinning before rolling his eyes.

“Oh come on Saf –“

“You need a time out.  Go to Zayn’s room,” she demands and Liam catches the way Harry’s green eyes go wide as if to ask her if she’s serious and Zayn’s laughing again, hand slapping the table as he doubles over.  Waliyha’s sighing loudly, mocha eyes rolling while Louis perks up, shaking a finger at Harry with triumph reigning through his expression.

Suddenly, Liam doesn’t feel so out of place after all.

**

He’s only been waiting fifteen minutes.  Okay, twenty-three minutes exactly but he only knows that because he keeps checking his watch and his phone, the one that Louis keeps texting incessantly even though Liam had not even been an hour removed from Louis’ flat.  And he hates that he’s actually wearing a shirt that _Louis_ picked out but Louis made him change his clothes three times before he even thought about letting Liam walk out the door.

He can still hear everything Louis babbled at him while he brushed his teeth and gave himself a few glances in the mirror: “Don’t be boring.  But don’t be too talkative.  Remember to make sure he knows you’re interested but, please, don’t be a total easy shag because I own that department, trademarked and all.  Oh, and remember, if he looks bored, just talk about sports or something.  I heard guys are into that.”

He’s not nervous, not really – he knows this is _not_ a proper date.  Not exactly even though Louis showered him in cologne, ensured to make them reservations at one of the nicer restaurants in town and, thankfully, Liam had a little money saved up because while he’s waiting he looks over the menu with wide eyes wondering if he can even afford dessert, let alone an entrée.

It doesn’t feel like a date because he’s not the one who talked to Niall, Louis was.  And Louis is the one who passed along the message from Niall that Thursday would be good, no, “quite perfect” according to Louis and Liam had tried not to wince at the smile that layered Louis’ lips.  Underneath the nerves was some building adrenaline.  Maybe it was the fact that this _was_ some sort of date and he hadn’t had one of those in too long.  And Niall was cute in a way that wasn’t predictable with that thick accent, blushing blue eyes, cheeks that are kissed red anytime he laughs too hard and jokes that are far too corny but Liam appreciates the way Niall tries.

His foot is tapping, partly from nerves but also from the music playing quietly in the background of the restaurant and he’s singing along lowly: _Before the gold and glimmer have been replaced. Another sun soaked season fades away… You have stolen my heart._   He sighs, another glance at his watch and its twenty-eight minutes now.  The waitress is giving him that look when she passes – the one that’s apparently sympathetic because she knows he’s been stood up.  He feels pathetic and, really, drowning Louis in the pool seems like way too nice of a way to die.  He’s thinking about something involving gasoline and fire and…

“Liam!”

Liam glances up, watches Niall scurry around a few guests being seated and a hostess with a clumsiness that is all Niall Horan and he’s genuinely smiling when Niall reaches their table, bent over with hands on his knees, face flushed and hair disheveled.  He’s panting, a finger held up to signal for Liam to wait a moment as he catches his breath.  Liam gives him a once over, feeling completely overdressed because Niall is dressed in a hoodie with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, plain white t-shirt, jeans with bright white high tops on his feet.  Niall drags his fingers through his thick hair, soft lips rolling into a grand smile when he straightens up and he’s plopping down into the chair opposite Liam, snatching up the other menu laying on the table.

Niall’s plucking a few of the complementary breadsticks from the basket in the middle of the table, munching as he says, “’m sorry I’m late.  Got a wee bit tied up chatting with my mum on the phone and then I ran into that brilliantly fit girl Cher, you know the one who works at that restaurant across town that Harry loves?  She’s a riot.”

Liam’s nodding, grinning because he only understands every other word but he pieces it all together as Niall snatches up another breadstick, grinning irrefutably.  His blonde-stripped hair is wildly out of place, cheeks still swirled pink with bright eyes that Liam finds time to look into without feeling completely enamored and self-conscious.  There’s something so uncannily boyish about him, from his moves to the way his lips curl into that adolescent-like smile when he catches Liam looking at him.  The blush feels hot against Liam’s cheeks and, honestly, maybe Louis wasn’t too far off about the concept of him enjoying Niall’s company.

It could quite possibly be Niall’s charm, the one that he has no clue that he has, but Liam sits silently as Niall goes on about the music he’s working on with Harry for the band, his plans to head home for the last few weeks of the summer, transferring to a new University for the next term, and his undying love for shitty television late at night.  Liam can hear the music shift in the background – _So why don’t we go somewhere only we know_ – while Niall’s studying the menu, making faces that leave Liam a little concerned but that Louis’ fault, right?  He picked the place, the time, the stupid outfit Liam’s wearing while Niall slouches into the uncomfortable chair like he hates it.

It strikes Liam like a match catching fire, lips slipping into a small frown before he’s saying gently, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Blue eyes liven up, Niall straightening and Liam doesn’t know why his fingers itch to close the distance between them and rest on top of Niall’s but hesitation holds him like barbed wire against his wrists.  He taps his fingers along the edge of the table instead, chewing on his bottom lip as Niall slaps the menu shut.

“I mean, not if you don’t want to,” Niall replies, voice swallowed in some unconvincing tone.

Liam snorts, looking away.  It’s not really his type of place either with the dimmed lights, fancy tablecloths that Liam’s fearful to touch.  All the wait staff are dressed in freshly pressed trousers with crisp white button downs, accents ditched to sound as proper as possible.  It’s taxing, like feeling way too poor to even utter the restaurant’s name amongst friends.

“This place was Louis’ idea.  Wouldn’t even considered walking into this place if I was completely bladdered and it was the only thing available,” Liam says, sideways grin running over his lips.

Niall’s nodding, his own smile widening.  “Let’s shove off then, shall we?”

Liam watches Niall scoot back from the table, leaping up and that energy is never dulled.  He feels a flush over his chest, watches the way Niall nearly bounces as he walks.  He’s following him, thinking of grabbing Niall’s hand, twining their fingers but that would be too forward.  Niall would probably take a piss at him later on when he’s with Harry, laughing uncontrollably because what would give Liam the idea he was even near that level with Niall yet?

They end up at Nando’s, Niall’s request, not Liam’s, and it’s the first time he’s felt like Niall is truly at ease.  He’s making jokes, flirting badly with the waitresses and then rolling his eyes when they walk away, ordering tons of food though Liam’s thrilled he can at least afford this.  They get engrossed in conversations about Louis, their best summers – Liam’s at camp while Niall’s involved running the streets of Dublin for a week without a care right before sixth-year – and Liam listens intently as Niall talks about his family and life back in Mullingar, following his older brother around _everywhere_ after his parents divorced when they were young.  Liam tries to explain why West Bromwich is clearly the most superior football team to which Niall laughs loudly without abandon.  Niall goes on about Eleanor for a while, random things like her favorite movie, how she looks in the pool, the way she promised to teach Niall how to dive, and Liam tries not to let his eyebrow arch or lips quirk at the way Niall seems to be in his own little world while rambling about her.  It’s not suspicious, not entirely, but when Niall catches himself, cheeks flushing red, Liam quickly changes the subject back to music, pretending that last ten minutes didn’t happen.

They walk the streets of the city for a while, Niall swinging his take-away bag back and forth happily while Liam grins with his bottom lip secured behind his teeth.  Niall talks about Harry, how they met – something about Nando’s, a girl, and “some fantastic chat about music where we both forgot what’s-her-name even existed” – and their plans to hopefully travel around London next summer with their band.  Liam talks about his own family back in Wolverhampton, feels a small frown tug at his lips because he misses them as much as he loves everything about being somewhere else, chasing a dream he’s had since he was twelve.

Niall goes on about Zayn for a little while and Liam doesn’t know why his interest is piqued then because it’s just Zayn, the guy Liam barely knew and probably wouldn’t know all too well before the summer was over.  Still, he likes the way Niall talks about Zayn being shy when they first met, how he hates for _anyone_ to touch his hair but he’s obscenely cuddly with almost everyone after he gets to know them, how much he’s into art and comic books and anything that seems wildly uninteresting to Niall but yet they laugh at the same jokes, love most of the same movies, and, for a moment, Liam wonders if maybe Niall would prefer be on a date with Zayn rather than him.

But this isn’t a date.  It couldn’t be.  They’re talking like they’ve been friends for years, laughing at silly things, shoving each other playfully when the other seems zoned out.  Niall even hops on Liam’s back halfway down an empty street, Liam laughing harshly while trying to balance both of them.  He’s terrible at it but Niall’s shouting happily, scrubbing his knuckles over Liam’s freshly buzzed hair and when Niall’s hand sweeps over his cheek, almost too softly, Liam feels his ears heat up and his cheeks must be that sweet rose color his mum warns him about when he’s crushing too hard on a girl.

There’s no kiss goodnight, not directly, though Niall does place a sloppily childish kiss on Liam’s cheek, punching his shoulder with an echoing laugh.  Liam grins, rubs at his shoulder and thinks about yanking Niall forward to do this properly.  He doesn’t but he has to grin when Niall pulls out a Sharpie – something about stealing it from Zayn’s earlier that day to fill out a job application – when Niall scribbles his cell number onto the palm of Liam’s hand.  He gives it a quick blow, snickering like some small animal when he drops Liam’s hand.  There’s a glimmer, something so small it might as well have been unnoticeable, flickering through calypso blue eyes when Niall looks at him, leaning on the door to he and Harry’s flat.  Temptation almost gets the best of Liam again but he refrains from kissing Niall, backing away slowly and there’s nods instead of “goodbyes” which feels pleasantly un-date-like.

It still takes Liam _hours_ to decide to wash that black ink from his hand though and he doesn’t have the courage to text Niall to tell him how much fun he had.  When he wakes in the morning, incredibly groggy and almost unwilling to roll out of the bed, there’s a text from Niall, smile tipping up his lips, with a picture attached of an empty Nando’s take away box: _thanks for the smashing night mate!_

**

The sun is high, warm against his skin with a blue skyline watching over chasing clouds.  His head is tipped back, eyes closed to let the heat blanket him while listening to Louis rattle on about his parents and how much he loves his sisters and there’s something about hating Harry thrown in there but Liam’s not fully present.  He’s wasting away in thoughts, letting his whole world drift along like rivers sliding against hedged stones.  It’s not all about Niall because, really, he hasn’t talked to him for a few days and he doesn’t have the energy to spend another couple of hours trying to figure out whether what they did was still considered a date – no matter how many times Louis insisted it _was._   Liam also doesn’t have the energy to argue with Louis.

The pool at the rec center isn’t massively busy but the patrons come and go.  Some flood in from the basketball court that’s a nice walk down a hill nearby.  There’s the ones who slip in from the nearby tennis court, mainly the ones that want to sit around in the lounge chairs with their glasses of lemonade or bottled water and gossip about things Liam never gives enough attention to.  There’s a playground where kids chase each other and swing for hours, some peeking into the pool with bright smiles and missing teeth.

Sometimes the rec center feels more like a country club rather than a place for any common person to come to for relaxation and sporty things.  Liam wonders if maybe that’s what Louis’ parents had intended because, despite how much Louis denies it, they are a bit too posh for _“common things.”_   Maybe that’s why the staff all wore polo shirts with nice khaki pants and there was even a small golf course a few miles away from the pool that Liam never frequented but Louis did with his father every other Sunday, rolled up chinos and pretty emerald green collared shirts.

Louis mentions something about needing Eleanor there because she’d understand but Liam just laughs quietly, listening to the sounds of the water splashing, kids squealing with unbridled excitement.  His feet are soaking in the water while Louis sits crossed leg, sipping slowly on a Coke.  Louis probably wishes there was a half a bottle of vodka in that drink because if there’s one thing Liam knows it’s that Louis loves his alcohol, stiff and strong.

“And, honestly, could Zayn be any more out of place…”

Liam’s eyes blink open when the statement crosses Louis’ lips.  He straightens a little, eyes peeking in the direction Louis eyes were and there he was.  He can hear it in his head, that song playing in Louis’ car at the beginning of the summer when Liam first basked in the beauty of the weather and the way it kissed his skin: _You don’t have a clue what it is like to be next to you. I’m here to tell you that it is good, that it is true._

His dark hair is styled this time, gelled into a quiff and the sun is a little too bright in the sky for Liam to see all the colors flecked in those brown eyes though Zayn wasn’t looking up.  He’s slouched into a lounge chair, legs crossed at the ankles with his eyes glued to whatever book was in his hands.  He’s got high tops on, a pair of snug jeans and if Liam trained his eyes properly, he might be able to tell whether or not Zayn’s white shirt actually said _‘Cool Kids Don’t Dance’_ but it doesn’t matter because, for some reason, he’s too busy watching the way the sun reflects nicely against slightly tanned skin.  Or maybe he’s too busy looking at the way Zayn’s jaw flexes when he really gets into what he’s reading, tongue occasionally licking out to wet his lips.

Louis is right – this isn’t Zayn’s type of environment and Liam would find him absolutely mad to step foot into the pool area but his eyes scan not too far from Zayn to spot Safaa splashing Waliyha happily at the shallow end of the pool.  Liam bites down onto his lower lip, chews at a smile as Waliyha gives her younger sister a playful push, whipping her wet hair backward like a pro as a few of the guys at the other end of the pool gawk at her unabashedly.

“I didn’t know he was coming,” Liam half whispers, still biting down on the corner of his bottom lip as Louis sighs.

“Well that means if he’s here then,” Louis stops himself, leaning forward to glance around the vast space of the pool and he groans lowly when his eyes lock on something.  “Should’ve known.”

“What?” Liam asks, turning his gaze from Zayn for a moment and Louis’ standing up quickly before Liam can find what he spies.

“Horan!  Oi, must you continuously be stalked by that massive giant of yours?” Louis asks loudly, arms crossing over his bare chest.  He’s tapping an impatient foot against the ground as Liam peeks around him.

Niall and Harry walk up shirtless in their swim shorts, manic grin slipping over Niall’s lips while Harry scowls.  Liam blinks at Niall for a moment before letting himself smile up into blue eyes.  Niall’s not really looking at him but the way his smirk tilts a little whets Liam’s appetite for learning how to make that smile curve and eyes brighten just for him.

“You’re a _dick_ you know that Tomlinson?” Harry hisses, fingers shifting through thick curls.

“I do.  And you and your amazing hair can kiss my sweet arse,” Louis chimes, batting his lashes and he’s grinning oh so confidently at Harry.

“My amazing what –“

“We drug Zayn down here against his free will.  Harry told me he promised Waliyha he’d get them down to the pool.  Thought it was a fantastic idea since we didn’t have band practice today.  Safaa is quite ace,” Niall spouts out, boundless energy rising through him again and he’s almost bopping from foot to foot as he speaks.  Liam tries not to snort at the way his pink lips curl into a bigger smile when Safaa calls out for them.

“Kid is quite brill,” Louis agrees with a nod.  He takes a quick glance down to where Liam is still sitting and Liam doesn’t like that flash he spots in those greenish blue eyes.  “And you know who else is?  Our dear friend Mr. Payne here.”

Niall takes a small glimpse past Louis, polite smile crossing his lips when their eyes meet.  He gives Liam a nod, nothing special, and Liam mimics it, keeping hibernating words in his throat.  When has he ever been this shy?  Reserved, maybe, but shy?  Not since he was four.

“He’s right ace, I tell you,” Louis says proudly, chin tipped upward and Niall snickers, running a hand through his sun-kissed blonde hair.

“Sod it all.  You’ve got to be kidding me with this fucking bullshit,” Harry huffs out.  Louis’ mouth opens to argue but Harry’s quicker, shoving Niall sideways and there’s a bark of laughter before Niall’s tipping over and splashing into the pool.

“You wanker,” Louis growls, fingers clenching into fists but Harry’s too busy laughing to care.  He’s got a hand on his chest, head tossed back and Liam should be a bit miffed too but the way Harry’s lips are spread into a glorified smile just leaves Liam laughing lowly while shaking his head.

“Sorry Lou, but you’re shit at…”

Louis’ shoving Harry backwards into the pool before he can finish.  There’s water splashing up and outward, limbs flailing and Niall’s surfacing with a laugh while eyes from around the pool look on each of them.  Curls fall, lips scrunch from a smile into a curled sneer, once bright green eyes turn dark and Louis is looking downright pleased with his actions when Harry stands tall in the shallow end of the pool.  Louis merely crosses his arms over his chest, daring Harry with his eyes and it’s some sort of silent duel between the two that Liam watches like something right out of _When Animals Attack_ from the telly.

“You little fucking twat, I’m going to murder you.  First degree with tons of witnesses,” Harry hisses but then there’s a small splash from the side of him.

“Harry!  Timeout.  _Now_ ,” Safaa demands, arms crossed and Harry groans with Waliyha this time.

Liam snorts, eyes dancing over the area for a second until they catch Zayn’s.  There’s a smile on his lips, exotic like a crescent moon against the purple skies of the night.  Zayn lowers his book and Liam wants to believe that Zayn just might be looking at him, a friendly glint shifting through his eyes.  Liam thinks to lift his hand, give Zayn a small wave but that would be all kinds of childish, right?  His brow knits together and he merely nods in Zayn’s direction, a symphony of warmth siphoning a smile from his lips.  Zayn raises his brow, shrugging some before lifting the book again.  His tongue swipes against his lips, wet and shiny, and that smile doesn’t seem to fade while he’s reading.  That smile on Liam’s lips doesn’t quite fade either and he tips his head back again, closing his eyes, humming along to the words in his head: _Birds singing a song; old paint is peeling.  This is that fresh, that fresh feeling._

**

Liam loves the smell of fresh cut grass, the way the dew clings to it early in the morning and the way it sticks to his skin whenever he falls into it after missing a goal.  It itches a little but in that good way he remembers from a child when he wasn’t too sick to run outdoors and play with the neighborhood kids for a while with his sisters making fun of him because he was far too clumsy.  He can still remember that lofty smile on his eyes lips, eyes crinkled at the edges as his mum calls him in for tea and warns him not to wear himself out so he’ll have energy in the morning for his shots.  He hated that, the sick feeling and the pain, but none of it mattered when she cracked his window and he could breathe in that sharp scent of grass and motivate himself enough to get better so he could fall down into it again.

“You very well are bloody rubbish at this, you know that?” Louis calls out, bouncing the ball from knee to knee like a pro.  He’s doing it all while glaring at Harry who’s flipping him off and shoving his fingers through his curls.

“Ah, come on, he’s trying,” Niall announces, rocking from side to side while waiting on Louis to make his next play.  He’s got a snapback flipped backwards on his head, blonde hair peeking out from everywhere and when he leans forward enough, Liam can see the almost vanilla skin sliding out from every available piece of Niall’s too thin tank.

“If that’s trying, he needs to quit,” Louis laughs out, dribbling the ball from foot to foot now.  “He’s too pretty for this sport.”

“You’re shit too, you know that?  I was better off with Liam on my team,” Harry grumbles, dashing forward to try and steal the ball from Louis but Louis is a little quicker, shuffling the ball away.  Harry frowns before his brow lifts.  “Wait, did you say that I was pretty?”

“Not the point,” Louis snaps, carelessly jostling the ball up the small field toward Niall and the worn out goal with holes in the net and white paint chipping away.

“But it is,” Liam says, easily slipping by Louis and stealing the ball with a simple kick.  Louis’ grumbling, four-letter words that Liam ignores with a grin.  He takes a look over his shoulder, smug with his words as he says, “He’s distracting you.”

“Piss off,” Louis shouts before pointing at Harry with wide eyes.  “Block the goal you freak of nature!”

“Too late,” Niall teases, scrubbing a hand over Louis’ hand, ruffling that nicely styled hair that Liam’s certain Harry hates, as he dashes past.  He’s cheering, Liam can hear him in the distance, and Liam’s trying to shake the grin from his lips as he easily sweeps past a stumbling Harry.

“You are a right arse Liam Payne,” Louis shouts and Liam can hear the bite in Louis’ voice as he gives a light kick and lets the ball simply roll into the undefended goal.

“No, he’s Superman,” Niall barks back, fist pumping into the air.

Liam barely turns around before Niall leaps up and tackles him to the ground.  The fresh grass scent encases him, mixed with that sharp scent of Niall’s deodorant and the way Niall always smells like fresh mint mixed with some sort of overly masculine cologne.  He’s grinning with Niall on top of him, laughing and playfully slapping at his chest before rolling off.  Niall falls into the grass next to him and Liam’s shy about looking at him, bright blue eyes with irresistibly large grin on his lips that makes Liam smile a little smaller.  That snapback is half hanging off his head now and Liam thinks about stringing his fingers through Niall’s thick hair but then he remembers Niall’s not his boyfriend.

In fact, Niall isn’t his anything.  They haven’t talked that much and there hasn’t been a second date unless he counts the time Louis drug Liam to a café where Harry and Niall were eating lunch and shoved Liam into the seat next to Niall.  Even then, Niall spent half of the time with his face in his plate and the other half laughing at all the jokes Louis made or the stories that took Harry way too long to tell.  But there was a hug at the end and Niall’s fingers lingered a little too long on Liam’s back.  In some strange way, he thinks that counts but only because Niall doesn’t hug Louis; just punches him in the shoulder with a laugh while Harry grins proudly.

“You’re brilliant Liam,” Niall says after another breathy laugh, rubbing his fingers gently over Liam’s buzz cut and Liam settles into the way it feels looking into those eyes.

“Not bad yourself, really,” Liam breathes out, chest still heaving from his showing off across the field.

Niall’s face brightens incredibly and Liam thinks there couldn’t be a better moment to reach forward, push that hat off Niall’s head to drag his fingers through blonde hair and pull Niall forward for a kiss.  Except Liam doesn’t.  He just laughs nervously and then Louis’ groaning out, “Thank goodness El is here with some food.  Harry, come.”

“Uh, I’m not your dog,” Harry says, sweeping quick fingers through his hair to fix his curls before flipping his head to the side, the bangs falling back into place.

Louis peers at Harry with his upper lip twitching into a sneer, hands on his hips.  “You’re right.  If you were, I’d have you put down by now.  Or neutered.”

“You’re sickly cute when you snarl,” Harry teases softly, dimples flaring and jade eyes glossed over as he passes Louis.  He makes sure he gives Louis a more than rough shove as he passes by, reminding Louis that he hates his guts not so subtly.

“Did he say El?” Niall asks as he pops up, searching around the field and Liam’s a little slower to sit up, spotting El at the far end with Harry and Louis crowded around her.  She’s brought friends: a pretty brunette with blue streaks layered throughout that he’s seen before.  Jesy?  He thinks so.  Then there’s Cher with all of her tattoos, hair styled up into a makeshift beehive and she’s popping her gum so loud it echoes in the air. Liam’s never understood why she thought the bratty look was attractive but she wears it well.

“El! Nosh!” Niall says loudly, already up and running before Liam can swipe a hand over his shoulder to dust off the grass sticking not so politely to his skin.  Liam sort of hates the way the smile spread across Niall’s face is different from the one he shares with Liam, maybe a bit more genuine in the way it glides and settles.  His lips purse a bit, fingers digging into the grass when Niall sweeps Eleanor up into his arms and nearly drops her when Jesy holds up a bag of food for him.

Liam sighs softly, taking his eyes away because he doesn’t want to be jealous of the way Niall looks at _food_ likes it’s better than normal, boring Liam.  He also doesn’t want to watch Cher try to stand in between Louis and Harry because they’re giving each other evil eyes and maybe Liam won’t have to kill Louis because Harry will probably do it for him without Liam offering a single quid.

Liam chews down on his bottom lip, looks toward the three small, wooden picnic tables lined up not too far from the field.  He feels a smile tapping at his lips when he sees Zayn seated on one of the tables, eyes looking downward like they always do when Zayn is focused.  He’d forgotten that Louis had invited him out, Zayn volunteering not to be the odd man out for their football game and residing as far from the action as possible.  And he’d been so shy when Liam begged him to join, shaking his head and holding up a sketchpad and some charcoal pencils, waltzing off like nothing really mattered.

Liam hopped up, dusting himself off as best as possible but all of the grass won’t fall away.  He jogged over to the tables, teeth still gnawing at his bottom lip until it was sore.  He stood over Zayn for a few seconds, studying him like Zayn studied his sketch.  Tattoos inked all over his forearms and Zayn’s t-shirt is loose enough today that it sort of falls forward enough for Liam to see the tattoos painted across the skin of Zayn’s collarbone.  His black hair is styled into a sharp quiff today, the edges a bit spiky and the sides are buzzed almost as short as Liam’s hair.  He has on hoop earrings on, not that Liam ever pays attention to what kind of earrings Zayn wears but he notices today with a tickling smile.  There’s a diamond hidden just around the cartilage of his left ear, almost unnoticeable unless someone was looking at Zayn intently like Liam was.

His black jeans are tight, sketchpad balancing on his knees.  The sunlight is dipping through the branches from the oak trees standing high and tall over the picnic tables, branches lazily swaying in the almost nonexistent breeze, covering Zayn in shades and whites.  There’s little to no scruff on Zayn’s face today, the sun catching the side of his face just right to highlight that sharp angle of his jaw.  Those long fingers hold the charcoal intently, his free hand splayed over the page and there’s smudges everywhere along his hands and wrists but Liam thinks Zayn wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Being quite rude, don’t you think?” Zayn asks, not bothering to look up and Liam’s glad because he doesn’t want Zayn to spot his surprised face or the way he jumps a little at the sound of Zayn’s voice.

“Sorry,” Liam mutters, thinking about turning and running off toward the others.  He doesn’t.  “Can I sit?”

Zayn shrugs, still shading along the paper.  “Doesn’t say ‘ _Reserved Just for Zayn’_ anywhere, does it?”

Liam chuckles quietly, shaking his head though he knows Zayn doesn’t see it.  There’s a quiet coldness to Zayn’s tone but Liam doesn’t think it’s reserved for him.  At least, he hopes it’s not.

Liam hops onto the table Zayn’s seated on, considers sitting at one of the empty ones but he likes being near Zayn for some reason.  He likes that quiet friendship he thinks they’re building where neither has to say much but knows the other enjoys the company.  He peeks over Zayn’s shoulder, tries to make out the lines and shades and smudges to piece together the picture Zayn’s sketching with delicate strokes.  He grins when Zayn’s tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth, strict concentration with brow scrunching and yet Zayn still looks like he’s in some unshakeable reverie.

“What is it?” Liam wonders, leaning in a little closer and he hesitates because he’s too far into Zayn’s personal space.  But Zayn doesn’t flinch, doesn’t scoot away and Liam kind of lingers there, shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh with Liam’s hand on the small space on the table behind Zayn.

“Not sure,” Zayn says with another shrug, nose scrunching when he strikes a line a little too dark on the paper.  His thumb quickly smudges at it, turns it into some beautiful shading even though Liam can’t decipher what it is.

“But you look like –“

“I’ll know when it’s done,” Zayn sighs out, finally looking up and his expression isn’t exactly annoyed but it’s not impressed with Liam’s line of questioning either.

“Right,” Liam replies quickly, eyes dropping to the hands he now has in his lap.  “Sorry.”

“You apologize too much,” Zayn mutters, looking back down again.  He rubs a hand over his cheek, sighing lowly.  “I’m just not sure what it is yet.  I’ve got a few different inspirations.”

“Good ones?” Liam asks, chancing a look at Zayn.

Zayn snorts, nodding.  He cocks his head to the side a little, eyes an almost amber hue this time.  “I’d like to think so.”

Liam nods, bright smile on his lips but he can feel percussion-heavy blush creeping against his cheeks and he’s not quite sure why.  He thinks the way Zayn’s eyes can look in the sunlight, California sunset like the pictures he’s seen on Google, are quite fascinating.  Maybe beautiful.  Something out of a fucking Katy Perry song, like the ones Louis listens to too loudly because he thinks they’re silly but he sort of knows Harry likes them in the maddeningly embarrassing way.  All he can hear for thirty seconds: _I’m gonna get your heart racing in my skin tight jeans; be your teenage dream tonight._

“Harry is going to kill Louis one day,” Zayn notes and the lithe of his accent stirs Liam from his obvious staring, ducking his head.

“I’ve already planned out the perfect song to sing at the funeral.  Will you give the eulogy?”

Zayn chuckles, genuine and it tickles Liam’s stomach in the right spots.  He catches the way Zayn rolls his eyes, still running his pencil lightly over the paper.

“You’d probably look proper and sharp in a suit,” Zayn remarks, long fingers curling tighter around the pencil after the words leave his lips.

Liam definitely knows why he blushes this time and he’s running fingers over the prickly hairs on his head.  He wants to think of something wildly creative and cheeky to reply with but he’s not Harry.  Maybe something stupid or inappropriate but he’s far from Louis.  He just licks his lips carefully and hums like he approves.

“You’re rather good out there.  Well, better than Harry.  And Louis.  Maybe Niall,” Zayn says, looking up and he’s chewing on the edge of his bottom lip.  The one that’s pink and full and what the fuck Liam?  Is he really paying attention to that when “the next great love of your life” as Louis calls Niall is just down the way?

“You think?” Liam asks, leaning forward a little because it feels right.  It feels friendly, just not by any definition he’s ever read.

“I watched a little,” Zayn states nonchalantly, another shrug of his shoulders.  “I’m not an expert though.”

Liam nods slowly, lets it all settle inside of him because he figured Zayn didn’t give two shits about the game.  Or any sports.  Doesn’t seem like his thing because he’s too cool to dance or play sports or do anything than look insanely important sitting on the sides with letterman jackets or jumpers and slick hair.

Liam’s not sure why he lifts a hand, eyes catching the dark mark smudged over Zayn’s cheek from where his hand had touched it, and gently wipes at the mark with two of his fingers, then his thumb.  Zayn’s skin is soft, softer than the way it looks upon inspection.  His cheeks are well defined and Liam can feel every curve under the pad of his thumb as he swipes away most of the mark.  It’s dark against his thumb and almost gray against Zayn’s sunglow skin.

Zayn’s eyes are a bit wide when Liam’s hand drops away, careful upon glance, and Liam feels himself tense.  He shyly slips off the table, heart thudding against his chest because, shit, did he really just do that?  And Zayn isn’t saying anything, just blinking.

It’s awkward and painfully unfair the way Liam’s thumb and fingers still sizzle like Zayn’s skin was made of electrical currents.  He scrunches his face, nudging Zayn’s knee playfully until the older boy is knocked off balance and Liam just laughs, plays it all off as Zayn flips him off with a smirk.  Liam shrugs, turning away to run in Louis’ direction.  He really thinks he’s running to the sun, trying to escape his embarrassment or the way he’s kind of stuck on the way Zayn’s smile is _definitely_ different from Niall’s.

**

Louis hates mornings.  Liam thinks he hates them more than he hates Harry and he’s almost certain, even as vehemently strong of a word hate is, Louis _hates_ mornings more than Harry Styles.  He never answers when Liam calls unless it’s at least ten and he’s had more than three sips of way too hot tea.  He never answers the door and the times Liam does stay over at his flat, Louis throws things if Liam even dares to peek his head in Louis’ room this damn early.  Liam thinks that’s why Louis’ one night stands never make it to see the sun because Louis is very much against to someone waking him up in his _own_ bed to thank him or ask for food or even utter his name when they’re looking for the bathroom.  It’s a quick promise to call when he’s scooting them out the door at four in the morning with enough money for a cab or a crumpled up paper with someone else’s number on it because, yeah, Louis doesn’t want them calling him first thing in the morning either.

It’s the reason Liam stopped asking Louis to come running with him on nice mornings even though Louis swears he needs to work out more and lay off the sweets.  He still laughs at the way Louis once tried to drag himself out of bed to come with Liam, finally throwing shoes aimed at Liam’s head while grumbling, “What the fuck is wrong with you?  You should be right knackered at this ungodly hour.  You are the devil, I _know_ it.  Should be curled up in someone’s bed trying to remember where the hell your boxers are and why your jaw aches.  Fucking bullshit.”

He doesn’t really have a routine when doing this, not like he did when he was in junior school and running cross country.  Usually it’s down the quieter streets of the city, deep breaths of clear air, the scent of fresh bread from the bakery a few streets from his flat, the sounds of a pack of kids heading to secondary school, the scent of too much perfume from the ladies walking toward their cars, the sound of the water sprinklers dousing the grass down at the rec center.  Sometimes he wears his earbuds to drown out the sound of the moving cars, the grumbling businessmen who are up too early, the cranky older women walking their just as stuck up dogs down the streets.  It’s always sweats and t-shirt, sometimes a hoodie or jumper too, and he lets the cooler temperature settle against his skin because it’s way too early for the sun to heat his skin.

It’s a slower start today, casual movements that lead him nowhere really.  He crosses down a few streets he knows, thinks about calling Eleanor for a muffin and coffee afterward but doesn’t.  He treks it around a few shops he likes, sprinting by because he can’t afford to lose concentration.  He bypasses the rec center today though that thin sheen of sweat against his forehead and that ache in the back of his calves has him needing a long shower in one of the stalls in the locker room by the pool.  He lifts his head high, wishes he still had some of that stamina he had in year nine when he was top three in the country but he knows he’s far from out of shape.

Something does catch his eye when he strides down a street that feels so familiar.  His heart jumps a little, probably the nonstop running, and a gentle smile slicks against his lips.  He slows some, deep breaths to settle his panting before he’s right at the corner where a cloud of smoke swirls perfectly gray in the morning chill.  Liam doesn’t remember seeing him smoke before, faintly remembers the dull smell of it mixed with sweet cologne and something resembling raspberries whenever they were close enough but he’s taking in a deep drag and Liam doesn’t find the habit as usually appalling as he does with everyone else.

Zayn looks a little different today.  He’s worrying his bottom lip a little, oblivious for a moment as he flicks at his cigarette so casually.  His hair is tucked underneath a gray cap: OBEY written in white against the bold red.  His free hand is pulling on one of the strings of his Green Lantern jumper and the hood is pulled up carelessly over the hat.  His tongue flicks out to lick over his lips, soft brown eyes a bit sharp today as he looks out at the road but he’s not really looking at anything.  He scuffs his Nike’s along the ground and Liam finds himself grinning.

“Didn’t think of you as a morning person,” Liam says quietly, bending over a little with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

Zayn looks up, shocked like he did that day at the picnic tables.  There’s something a little less cold this time, drifting smile working its way over pinkish lips before they’re curling around the cigarette again for a longer inhale.  Zayn’s flicking it away, stubbing it out with the toe of his shoe before blowing swirls of smoke from the side of his mouth.

“I’m not,” Zayn says flatly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his chinos.  He rocks back on his heels, looking away.  “Mum called a few times and I had to get up.  Family shit.”

Liam nods, straightens up.  He can see it in the way Zayn’s jaw flexes and his eyes squint a little; he’s overwhelmed.

“Want to go for a walk?” Liam offers, swallowing down shyness that’s lumped in his throat.  He feels a shift inside when Zayn’s head jerks in his direction, eyebrow arching and eyes a little untrustworthy.  He holds up a hand quickly before adding, “We don’t have to chat about it.  Just walk and clear your head.”

The features in Zayn’s face soften a little and Liam feels a weight lifting.  He catches the way Zayn looks backward quickly and Liam finally realizes that his jog might’ve brought him to Zayn’s street, to the building he knew so well because it was where Zayn’s flat was.  But then Zayn’s looking back at him, teeth nipping at his bottom lip before he’s replying, “I guess.  Those two will probably sleep for another hour anyway.”

They’re quiet for a long time, Liam letting Zayn set the pace and direction in which they move.  Liam watches the surroundings, eyes glancing Zayn’s direction more than a few times.  Zayn watches the ground, kicks at loose rocks.  Liam tries to talk about music and Harry’s band.  Zayn nods, mutters a few quiet things about how good they are but nothing feels relevant.  They talk a little about movies and Zayn perks up just a bit when Liam goes on about _the Avengers_ and how much he actually _did_ like that Green Lantern movie.  Zayn’s all grins and nods, no words really but Liam smiles at the way Zayn’s eyes are lit up.

“He’s not doing well.  My dada.  My mum was trying not to cry but I could hear it in her voice.  She kept asking about Safaa and I know she trusts me, but it’s hard for her to accept that I can handle it.  I can handle _this_ ,” Zayn finally says, still not looking at Liam.  He’s running his thumb over the outline of a dove tattooed between his thumb and forefinger.  He peels back the hood on his jumper, brow creased and lips pressed tightly together.

Liam nods because he knows not to say anything.  He can read it in Zayn’s expression; he doesn’t need sympathy.

“It’s shit, really.  I should be there.  Doniya should be with Saf and Waliyha but I get it.  I know those two depend on me and I can’t let them down,” Zayn remarks, swallowing back a sigh and Liam can see the struggle.  He watches the way Zayn’s fingers curl into fists, the way his shoulders slump forward.

“You’re doing great,” Liam whispers, doesn’t mean to but he can’t help it.  It’s the way those eyes are a solid brown today and the way all of that spark he’s come to enjoy in Zayn feels so dulled.  When Zayn glances up, doubtful, Liam smiles before saying, “From what I can tell, I mean.  I don’t know how you couldn’t be good at this.”

Zayn snorts, nodding his head a little before nudging his elbow against Liam’s side.  He looks away again, biting at the edge of his lip.  “My baba says he’s proud of me.  Taking on this responsibility and all.  I know his daughters are the world to him.”

“I’m sure you are too,” Liam says quietly and his hand accidentally brushes against Zayn’s but Zayn doesn’t move.  Zayn lets his hand brush back, pinky sweeping down the side of Liam’s hand until it swipes down the length of Liam’s.

“I’d be a shit father,” Zayn laughs out, eyes crinkling but Liam can still see the sadness buried in the edges.  Zayn drags a hand down his face, sighs out, “I let Safaa stay up way too late and let her eat candy before every meal.  I don’t stop Waliyha from having a major crush on Harry though she denies it.  I smoke and drink and let Louis say things around them that my mum would say aren’t very proper.  I sleep as much as possible instead of making them read and practice math.”

Liam shakes his head, watches the way Zayn ducks his head with a shrug.  He steps a little closer to Zayn as they walk, instinct getting the best of realism as he slides an arm around Zayn’s slumped shoulders.  Zayn doesn’t tense up, doesn’t pull away and it forces Liam to throw his nerves to the ground, tread over them.

“You’re being young.  You’re _allowed_ to be,” Liam remarks and that sweet smell of watermelon from Zayn’s shampoo invades his senses.  He wants to pull Zayn in closer but doesn’t.

Zayn nods, not as confident but there’s something absolutely charming in the way his eyes brighten a little.

“I do make sure they clean their room and act proper.  Waliyha and I get on quite well.  She’s wicked funny.  I love the way Saf keeps me in line too.  She’s loads of fun,” Zayn notes, wavering grin on his lips and Liam’s sorted out he loves the way Zayn falls into a state of reverie when it comes to his sisters.

“You’d be a great father.”

Zayn barks out a laugh, fiercely genuine and deep.  His head tilts in Liam’s direction a little before he adds, “You would.  All responsible and careful.  You’re always making sure everyone is good before you.”

“I do sometimes wonder if Louis is really my son,” Liam teases and the way Zayn’s lips tilt up into a smirk set a fire around the rim of Liam’s belly.

They let silence soak the air for the rest of their walk.  Liam doesn’t remove his arm from around Zayn and Zayn doesn’t seem to mind at all.  He rests his head on Liam’s shoulder for a few quiet beats, nibbling at his bottom lip with an ease that wasn’t there earlier.  Liam likes it, covets it like some form of religion.  He doesn’t know if anything he’s said takes some of the struggle away from Zayn but there’s something about that subtle smile Zayn presents him when Liam asks to take Zayn’s sisters to the rec center later in the week that reminds him that just maybe he and Zayn were the kind of friends Liam hoped they were.

**

“If you let me drown, I swear –“

“You won’t,” Liam sighs out, biting at a smile because there’s frustration and fear clouding the brown eyes staring back at him.  “I promise.”

“Shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” Louis notes from the side, sliding his sunglasses up his face until they rest on top of his head.  He’s arching an eyebrow in Liam’s direction and Liam hasn’t thought about drowning Louis in about a week but suddenly that seems like far too kind of a way to die.

“Fuck Lou, must you be such an arse,” Harry hisses as he slides into the pool, the sun dipping sweetly over the curves of muscle and toned parts.

“Harry,” Safaa calls, splashing in his direction but he quickly holds up a hand to stop her.

“I _know_ Safaa.  I’ve got a permanent slot in timeout,” Harry sighs loudly, turning his head to wink at Waliyha and Liam smirks at the way blush ravages her face.

“Would it not be massively fantastic if you _did_ manage to drown in the _shallow_ end of the pool Zayn?” Louis chimes, leaning forward on his lounge chair and Liam wants to elbow Harry when he hears him chuckling in the background.  He tries not to snarl when Louis adds, “I think Liam’s intentions are quite dodgy.”

“Liam?”

Liam swallows a sigh, jerking away from his glare toward Louis to look on Zayn.  He’s all wide eyes, mouth agape, and there’s a tremble every few seconds wrecking Zayn’s body.  Liam tightens the grip he’s had on Zayn’s wrist since he _dragged_ Zayn toward the pool and led him into the cool water.  And Zayn’s looking over the clear water, nerves wrinkling his expression while he stands stiffly.  The water is barely touching Zayn’s hips but even that seems too deep for him and Liam tries not to regret this idea in the first place.

“We won’t go any further than you want to Zayn.  I won’t let anything happen,” Liam says gently, thumb rubbing small circles around the back of Zayn’s wrist.  Zayn nods stiffly and it’s almost believable until Waliyha saunters by with a giggle, splashing her brother playfully and Liam has to dig his nails into Zayn’s wrist to prevent him from jumping out of the water.

“Brilliant idea Li, really,” Louis chuckles lowly, slouching back into the chair with his head tilted back to bathe in the sun.

“Come on Zayn,” Safaa beams, tugging gently on the leg of Zayn’s swim shorts and Zayn’s sighing dramatically before biting out, “Fine.”

It takes Zayn awhile to adjust, kids splashing around him and the way the water shifts over his skin the further in they walk, but Liam grins when Zayn settles into the way the water feels against his skin.  Liam chews on a grin when Zayn holds his hand, dips down beneath the surface with Liam for a second, holding his breath impossibly long with his eyes firmly shut under the water.  His hair is flat against his head when he emerges, squealing and laughing all at once.  He’s wiping at his face for minutes as Liam slides his hand from Zayn’s, shy smile pursed over his lips.  He waits for Zayn to panic but he doesn’t, dark hair sticking to his forehead and the sun is highlighting all of the tattoos sketched against his forearm and chest, Liam smirking at the heart tattoo inked just above Zayn’s hip.  There’s genuine joy in Zayn’s expression and Liam floats away for just a moment when Safaa sloppily swims up, giggling when her brother sputters on the water from her messy kicks.

Liam’s a bit distracted, _quite_ distracted when Niall strolls in, leaping into the deep end and emerging with a loud laugh.  He’s splashing around with a friend, some drummer named Josh, and Liam leans on the edge to watch the way Niall pulls his fingers through his hair to push back that blonde hair, blue eyes almost as crystal as the water’s surface when the sun strikes it right.  His skin is reddening a little from the sun but it’s the perfect hue against already pale tones.  And that goofy smile never seems to cease, not even when Niall swims up to the edge of the pool to chat with Eleanor and Cher, still too naïve to spot the way Cher makes eyes at him or the smile that slips over Eleanor’s face when Niall casually lays a hand on one of her knees.

“You ignoring me Payne?  You’re supposed to be my personal lifeguard,” Zayn remarks when he sidles up to Liam near the edge of the pool.

Liam blinks twice, turns to smile quietly at Zayn and the way Zayn’s lips are tipped up, his smirk wickedly casual and teasing at once, leaves Liam a little speechless.  He splashes playfully at Zayn, snorts at the way Zayn’s face twists up in horror before he’s resting a reassuring hand on Zayn’s hip, nose scrunching up as he laughs at the scowl on Zayn’s face.  He unconsciously reaches up to drag his fingers through Zayn’s thick, matted down hair, twisting around the locks.  He only stiffens when a gasp strikes past Louis’ lips, biting down on his bottom lip as Zayn raises his brow.  Zayn’s eyebrow lifts, crooked grin inching over his lips and, honestly, there’s mischief there but it’s still magnetic in the way Zayn looks as Liam slowly pulls his hand away.

“It’s too deep out here.  Save me,” Zayn demands, slipping around Liam and Liam’s too stiff from the glare Louis’ giving him to notice Zayn pushing down on his shoulders before he’s leaping onto Liam’s back.  He’s not heavy, not in the way Liam expected but it takes him a moment to find his balance while Zayn wraps his arms around Liam’s neck and curls his legs around Liam’s waist.  Liam digs his fingers into Zayn’s thighs, pulls up on them for support and he can feel Zayn grinning against the shell of his ear.

“Oh, me next!  Me next!” Safaa calls out, doing her best to swim closer but it’s too deep and she stops, pout reigning her lips.

“Hey Saf,” Liam hums, watches those light eyes glance up and she’s even better at the puppy face than he ever was at that age.  He bites on a grin before whispering, “You’re definitely next.  Definitely.”

She’s clapping, cheering and Liam knows Waliyha is somewhere rolling her eyes but he sort of settles into the way her excitement ripples through him.

“Brilliant Liam,” Zayn says quietly, drawing out his name until it sounds like _‘Lee-yum’_ while he strokes almost calloused fingers over Liam’s scalp.  “Now you’re stuck with her.”

Liam smiles, feels Zayn accidentally brush his chin over Liam’s temple as Liam adjusts the shifting weight on his back.  He’s not afraid to admit he doesn’t mind the heat, grinning when Zayn’s arms tighten around his neck.  He feels the heat kiss along his cheeks, the blush probably leaving him a shade of red deeper than that sunburn Louis gets twice a year.  He ducks his head a little, trying to find something else to focus on.  He tries not to brush his lips over the _‘ZAP!’_ tattoo on Zayn’s forearm, yellows and reds bold and bright below his eye line.  Zayn’s playfully toying with the small scruff against his chin, teasing in the way his fingers brush repeatedly over it.

“Chicken fight!” Harry announces loudly, water sloshing as he does his best to stride forward with Waliyha giggling from atop of his shoulders.

“Stand down young Styles before me and me lady smite you,” Niall calls out and Liam glances to his right to spot Niall splashing forward with Eleanor squealing from her loose position on his back.  They’re lacking in all the grace Harry and Waliyha attempted to carry and there’s no coordination like he and Zayn but Liam’s still staring at Niall, ignoring the way Eleanor’s fingers slide through Niall’s hair as she tries to stay balanced.

Zayn’s laughing from behind him, body shivering with laughter and Liam doesn’t mind the vibration at all.  He feels Zayn’s fingers tighten on his skin, pinching at his shoulder as his other hand does its best to splash at Harry and Waliyha.  Waliyha is yelling with a scowl, gripping onto Harry’s curls while Harry splashes back with tremendous effort.  Liam takes the brunt of it all, wiping away water that slips down into his eyes as Zayn smiles against his temple.  He can hear Zayn’s soft giggle, the way it tingles against the lobe of his ear.  He’s not completely against the sensation, lopsided grin forming on his own lips but then he catches the sight of Niall again and, suddenly, he’s a bit gutted trying to remember that _Niall_ is who he’s trying to steal that kind of smile from.

Niall’s clumsy in the water, losing his balance at least three times before he can fully get to them and he’s bumping into Liam, foreheads touching and if Liam loses his footing just a little his lips will be smashed against Niall’s.  The thought sloshes against his emotions and he doesn’t feel opposed to the idea.  And Niall’s grinning, wild eyes and bright teeth.  But Zayn gives Niall just enough of a push against his shoulder and Eleanor’s screaming as Niall tips backward and the sound of the splash is louder than the sound of Louis saying, “You lot are fucking mad.  You’re worse than a bunch of freshers pissed on cheap beer.  And Liam _quit_ making eyes at that daft arse Niall.”

**

He hasn’t been completely listening to the conversations, no, _arguments_ going on behind him but he doesn’t think he has to until he hears his name: “Liam is _perfect_ for him.”

It’s Harry and Louis, _again_ , and its all loud voices, from Louis, and hissed words, from Harry.  Liam had lost track of when it started but he’s well into his third game of FIFA 13 and half the bag of crisps Eleanor had tossed him are gone.  She’s busy looking back and forth between the two like she’s watching some wild form of entertainment on the telly while Zayn is curled up on the other couch in Louis’ flat with a laptop nestled between his legs, the clicking of keys the only orchestra of sound outside of Louis and Harry’s voices.

“I’m not saying he’s not.  Liam would be perfect for _anyone_.  He’s just _that_ guy,” Harry fusses, hands thrown up and Eleanor tosses a handful of Harry’s kettle corn into her mouth as Louis’ face winces in disgust.  Liam’s certain the words don’t come out the way he wants and he’s certainly against being offended because, really, those two would argue about the words to ‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ if they could.

“And Liam is right over here,” Liam announces, waving his hand blindly while still focusing on the game on the flat screen in front of him.  He hears the soft sound of Zayn’s snicker and a grin instinctively spreads over his lips.

“Oh shut it Li.  Grownups talking here,” Louis waves him off and Eleanor’s snorting, tossing a piece of kettle corn at Louis.

“Grownups,” Zayn repeats, still chuckling.

“Do not test me Malik,” Louis warns with a hiss and Liam shakes his head with a smirk, knows all of his anger toward Harry is darted in Liam and Zayn’s direction but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’m just saying maybe Niall’s not the one,” Harry says with a sigh and Liam _feels_ Louis’ anger from the couch, ducks his head a little because he knows it’s coming, hears the one Louis’ foot won’t stop tapping incessantly loud against the hardwood floor.

“And in three, two, one,” Zayn snickers out, head still lowered as he types but Liam chances a peek at him, feels his own lips quirk at the way Zayn’s grinning with his eyes on his laptop.

“Fucking bullshit.  Everything you utter is fucking bullshit.  They get on great.  Smashingly.  Have you _seen_ the way Niall looks at Liam every time he tells a joke?” Louis fusses, hands and arms moving violently as he speaks.  Harry’s slapping a hand over his eyes, frustration bubbling but Louis adds “How would you know anything about this anyway?  Aren’t you perpetually single?”

“You’re hopeless,” Harry barks, eyes peering and Liam has to admit, fully turned around with his knees digging into the cushions and his arms resting on the back of the couch, Eleanor is right; watching these two is far more entertaining than anything on the telly.

“And you’re a twat,” Louis sneers back.  He knows Louis has little control over the way he can go from stunningly mature to a four year old in seconds but everything about the way he’s standing with that whine in his voice and the way he’s mocking Harry is adolescence personified.

“Tenner says they kill each other before the month is over,” Zayn says quietly, crooked grin on his lips as he finally looks up.  Liam glances his way, doesn’t realize how little attention he’s given to Zayn but there he was with his hair looking soft, swept in different directions instead of in a quiff, reading glasses perched on his nose and he’s adorable in just that moment with pink lips curled into a smile that pushes his tongue against his teeth.

Liam feels the tug at the corners of his mouth, eases into the way it makes him feel before replying, “Twenty says before the week is over we’ll be singing ‘Amazing Grace’ in black suits.”

Zayn snorts, head nodding as he pulls at the collar of his t-shirt; the one that reads _‘Thank You’_ in red outline with that bold scarlet _‘Fuck You’_ right in the middle.  It’s crass and Zayn all at once.  He’s nursing his bottom lip, blinking a few moments as he watches Liam and Liam wonders if that softness in his eyes is truly visible if Zayn removes those black framed specs.

“I _know_ Niall,” Harry hisses and Liam turns back, realizes that Harry and Louis are inches from each other now and though it’s a bit unsettling, he knows this is how Harry and Louis communicate.

“And I _know_ Liam,” Louis counters, not in the least bit intimidated even though Harry towers over him.

Harry groans loudly, jerking backward and Louis is smug as if he’s won some sort of ribbon-worthy battle.  Harry’s dragging his thin fingers through his hair, not caring how the curls fall this time before he’s looking over his shoulder and sighing out, “I’m just saying maybe there’s someone _else_ for Liam.  Other than Niall because, well, Niall is Niall.  Someone who _gets_ Liam.  Someone that’ll fit that missing piece you swear he has yet to get.”

Liam’s brow raises and it’s the first time he actually pays attention.  They’re arguing about _him_ and not who’s better at this silly game of setting their friends up.  They’re deciding what’s best for him, what fits and how the hell would they know?  Neither of them were in his last relationship, though if it was up to Louis, he would’ve had complete say so on the things that happened between Liam and Danielle but Liam had always been so private about that portion of his life.  And maybe he didn’t want Niall to be _the one_ but, really, wasn’t that his choice?  Didn’t he get to decide whether he even wanted this thing with Niall to go further than that one spectacularly memorable first _not_ -date?

“You’re both mental,” Liam grumbles but he’s certain he’s not loud enough for either of them to hear.  He drops back down onto the couch, lips folding into a frown when he realizes he’s lost the game and he’s tossing the controller aside, pulling his legs up so his chin can rest on his knees.

“Can’t be.  Niall is perfect for him and I’m not letting this go,” Louis insists, folding his arms over his chest.  He wears stubbornness like a new t-shirt; tightly fitting and slightly wrinkled.  “It’ll work out just fine Hazza.”

Harry snorts mockingly, spinning on his heels.  His eyes leer at Louis for a beat, head shaking.  “Whatever you say _Lou_ ,” Harry bites out because Liam’s confident Harry hates when Louis gives Harry nicknames, “I’ve got band practice with _my_ best mate Niall.  Feel free to plan out their wedding while I’m away.”

Liam winces a little when he hears Harry stomp towards the door, brow knitting together when the door slams.  He watches the way Zayn’s own brow is raised, watching the scene before shaking his head and returning his eyes to the computer screen.  He wants to say something, wants Zayn to give him a look that isn’t so resigning and unsettling.  Part of him wants to snatch Zayn from that other couch and force him to go on a walk because it’ll be just the two of them, laughing and discussing everything but this maddening conversation they didn’t mean to be a part of.  He merely plays with the fabric of his jeans and lets Zayn place his focus elsewhere.

“He’s impossible,” Louis groans loudly, dropping down onto the couch next to Zayn.

Eleanor giggles, sliding down next to Liam and she rests a hand on his shoulder while looking at Louis.  “You’re quite dim, you know that Louis?  You’re in _love_ with that bloke.”

Louis’ blue eyes are wide, pupils blown, and Liam wonders how long Louis’ mouth hangs open before he utters, “Fucking hell I am.”

“You _are_ ,” Eleanor insists.

“You, young lady, are bladdered,” Louis laughs out but there’s something strangling that usually jovial sound emanating from Louis.

“I’m not.”

“Well then your high off your ass,” Louis points out.

“You’re so concerned about Liam finding love and it’s sweet, really,” Eleanor sighs, “but you’ve got to admit that you spend way too much time thinking about Harry and what he thinks about things.”

“I don’t,” Louis tells her, eyes narrowed.

“You don’t fight with _anyone_ like that.  Not even me or Li,” Eleanor states and Louis gapes at her again.

“She’s right,” Liam adds, earning him a scowl from Louis.

“Nobody asked you loverboy,” Louis grumbles, kicking a throw pillow from the couch.

Liam shrugs, turning his eyes from Louis to Zayn who’s watching him quietly.  He knows his cheeks flush pink and he lowers his eyes a little because Zayn’s looks always put him a little off.  Not in a bad way, just an uncomfortably brilliant way.

“Zaynie, tell them I don’t love Harry,” Louis whines, falling back and into Zayn’s lap.  He fusses with the laptop for a moment, pushing it from under him and Zayn’s lifting it before Louis can shove it to the floor.  Louis sighs lowly, tilting his head up with a pout.  “I can’t stand the mere sight of that freakishly tall wanker.  He’s a right pain in the arse.”

Zayn chuckles, lowering his laptop to the glass coffee table before stroking a few fingers through Louis’ hair.  Liam feels something twitch inside of himself, sharp pain and it unsettles him as he watches the way Zayn looks down on Louis with a fondness he wishes he had.  Wait, what the fuck?  He wishes _he_ had that attention from Zayn?

“You love him,” Eleanor says again, munching on some more kettle corn.

“Bugger off El,” Louis replies instantly, waving a dismissive hand at her without looking.

“He doesn’t love Harry,” Zayn finally says, looking up and Liam suffocates on the way those goldenrod eyes look behind the glasses.  Zayn giggles before saying, “But I’m certain he wouldn’t be opposed to shagging Haz.  Or maybe just some head, at least.”

“You little shit,” Louis squeals, jumping up and they’re tickling each other incessantly with Louis on top of Zayn.  It’s all giggles and rapid fingers until they’re rolling off the couch with a thud, never stopping as their laughter gets louder and Liam’s heart beats a little faster.

The way Zayn’s head is tipped back, long stretch of skin along his neck and his cheeks are cherry red, hair tangled all sorts of ways as Louis pulls on it, leaves Liam balling his fists.  The way those long lashes kiss Zayn’s pushed up cheeks, white teeth showing and Liam imagines them along his shoulder for a moment, raking along his throat until lips kiss against the birthmark on Liam’s neck.  For too many seconds he wants to be the one that makes Zayn laugh that loud.  He wants to know how his fingers feel against Zayn’s stomach, his ribs; nails carelessly peeling down Zayn’s skin as he pants.  He wants to straddle Zayn’s hips like Louis but instead of forcing Zayn to give in, he wants Zayn to whisper his name and beg for more.  He wonders if Zayn’s lips taste like the raspberries he smells like or would it be the sharp taste of cigarette smoke and that mint gum Zayn’s always chewing?  How would it feel to have the scruff from Zayn’s jaw running along his skin until its pink and raw while he tugged forcefully on that thick hair like Louis’ doing, except Louis’ trying to get Zayn to stop tickling fingers underneath his shirt.  Liam would help Zayn take the shirt off so his fingers could explore more.

Liam swallows thickly, shakes and Eleanor eases away from him with a start.  Her doe eyes are wide, lips quirking to speak but she halts.  He blinks at her, mortified, and he hopes she can’t see his erection when he stumbles off the couch and rushes for the door.  He’ll call Louis later, explain he got sick from too many crisps or something but his skin is hot, thin sheen of sweat against his forehead, and his fingers are twitching uncontrollably.  His heart is climbing up his throat and he can feel the way his stomach drops, not in the fun way it does when he rides those attractions at the carnival.  And it’s tick-tick-tock in his head, everything slamming to a complete halt when the only word slicing against his tongue is _‘Zayn.’_

**

If Liam’s being honest, there was no way he couldn’t answer his phone.  Part of him had wished it was Niall because, yeah, that was actually going fairly well, depending on the perspective.  There still wasn’t a second date, or, really, a _first_ date that wasn’t set up by Louis but they chatted a lot more often and the last time they were at lunch with Louis, Niall sat right next to him and even rested a hand over Liam’s while laughing at something Louis didn’t intentionally mean to be funny when he said it but nothing Louis says is intentionally funny; it just is.  And maybe Liam’s still a bit scared shitless when it comes to actually initiating something between he and Niall but he likes to think of it as taking it slow.  Eleanor likes to think of it as Liam being chicken shit, not that he was paying Eleanor any mind.

But it wasn’t Niall calling him that late at night and he knew it wouldn’t be.  Probably Louis because Louis liked to do that kind of thing; talk to Liam for hours on end when he’s shitfaced or far too emotional, a side that only Liam gets to hear or see.  Not even El gets to see Louis’ tears and Liam likes to think it’s a fortunate thing because Louis isn’t very pretty when he cries.

When he glanced at his phone, it wasn’t Louis either and Liam’s a bit shocked because the number isn’t recognizable but the name on the caller ID is: _Zayn Malik_.

It’s not that Liam’s been avoiding Zayn, but he kind of has.  He just feels out of place because his friends were deciding his life and he’s _supposed_ to, by all accounts, like Niall.  But then he catches himself looking at Zayn when he’s not supposed to.  He finds himself wanting to chat with Zayn, go on about a cool, rare comic he found at a bookstore because Zayn fancies things like that.  Zayn likes to sit around and analyze movies like he gets them when he and Liam both know they don’t get it all.  Then there’s the way Zayn tries to teach Liam about music, hip hop and all that, but Liam doesn’t understand all of it; he just likes the way Zayn gets giddy and throws an arm around Liam’s shoulder as he goes on and on about what makes a great rap song, smiling the whole time.

No one notices, not really.  Louis makes a fuss about Liam ignoring his deeply dramatic conversation about saving a dozen or so men in England the pain of being in a relationship with him because, truly, he’s just not _that_ guy but Liam’s in the pool with Zayn that day, trying to coerce him into deeper water while Zayn fidgets and refuses repeatedly.  Liam almost misses a call from Niall when he’s watching Harry try to show Zayn a few dances moves and, honestly, Harry’s not even a good dancer but Liam finds it so comical that he can’t take his eyes away while Zayn rolls his hips awkwardly with blush highlighting his cheeks as if he’s doing something so completely foreign it should be illegal.  And it’s not like he can hear the phone buzzing over Harry’s loud laugh or the way Zayn bites on his bottom lip, bouncing his shoulders and it’s all – _this time I’ll be bulletproof_ – with Zayn brushing the fringe from his fallen quiff from his forehead while giving Liam wide eyes.

The conversation is short when Liam finally answers, probably because Zayn’s breathing is a bit labored and his words are chewed out and shaky.  Liam can almost taste the stress ringing through Zayn’s tone and he’s pulling on a shirt and jeans before Zayn’s even finished half of his sentences.  He’s halfway down his street when he can feel Zayn calming a bit and Liam likes to think it’s the way he responds, calm and gentle, that lets Zayn finally explain that Safaa is sick and Zayn’s not quite certain what to do.  Liam’s not sure either but he thinks it’s for the best that he doesn’t let Zayn know that.

Waliyha lets him in, no words uttered but a small hug that’s a little tight when Liam goes to pull away and Liam’s never felt her arms around him before but he’s certain he likes it.  He runs a tender hand over her head, assuring without words, before he’s taking lights steps down the hallway toward the back.  He’s not certain which one to walk into because both doors are slightly ajar but then there’s a soft sound, a voice that swells against his heart the way roses bring a calming smile across his mother’s lips every holiday his father purchases them for her.

Liam peeks his head in through one of the doors, suspects its Safaa and Waliyha’s room by the way its decorated and the way there’s clothes tossed almost everywhere with pinks and yellows invading his sight.  Zayn’s laying on the bed, Safaa’s small form curled around him with her head on his chest and Zayn’s chin resting on top of it.  Her eyes are closed and breathing light, Zayn running soft circles over her back with his hand while he sings softly.

Liam’s lips quirk up, leaning on the doorway watching Zayn.  His head is bowed, eyes on Safaa as she clings to his bare chest.  He’s combing fingers through her hair now, voice dropping a little softer but the tone sends quiet shivers up Liam’s spine.  He feels the goosebumps along his flesh, wonders if anyone’s really had that kind of effect on him when singing so quietly.  It’s not a lullaby, not like the ones his mother would sing when he’s deathly ill and unable to do anything but latch onto her, but it’s something he expects out of Zayn.  It’s quiet and soothing, the way he puts his own gentle spin on it, and Liam wants to sing along, thinks he does when the words cross over Zayn’s lips: _So I don’t look back. Still I’m dying with every step I take. But I don’t look back._

Safaa groans loudly, tossing a little but Zayn’s arms encircle her, shush her while he kisses the top of her head.  Liam chews on his bottom lip, feels completely intrusive but then Zayn is singing again – _Just a little, little bit better_ – right into her ear until a small smile slips over Safaa’s lips.  She falls back into that patterned breathing, mouth falling open but nothing escaping but quiet breaths.

Liam traces fingers over his jaw, feels the prickling hairs there.  His lips peel apart, voice soothingly quiet as he harmonizes for a second: _We could keep trying but things will never change_.  His eyes are on the floor when he trails off, doesn’t want to finish the words but when he looks up, light brown eyes are on him.  His lips twist sideways while Zayn chews on his bottom lip, concern working its way through the spun gold in his eyes yet Liam catches a smile pushing at the ends of Zayn’s lips.  He nods at Zayn, eases back while the shadows cascading over Zayn’s face prevent him from reading any further into Zayn’s expression.  He spots Zayn giving him a small nod though, takes it as a sign as he turns and heads back down the hallway.

Liam’s slouched on the couch with Waliyha, her head in his lap as he threads fingers through her soft, dark hair.  The living area is dark save for the telly which illuminates them while the shadows dance playfully around them.  She’s incredibly funny like Zayn, if not a bit more sarcastic.  She’s been going on about Justin Bieber and music for a half hour before Zayn clears his throat and Liam peeks over the couch to watch him slip into the kitchen with his head down.  Waliyha says it before Zayn can, explains Safaa woke up with a fever and vomiting nearly ruining Waliyha’s favorite shirt.  She jokes about Zayn panicking, not wanting to call their mum but “he’s no doctor and he really makes an awful nurse” and Liam realizes that’s what they do – antagonizing each other because they can, always smiling at the end.

“Shut it Liyha,” Zayn grumbles but she continues like he doesn’t exist.

Liam glances up when Zayn peeks over the couch, lips twisted sideways as he runs a hand over Liam’s head.  “Tea?”

Liam feels his lips tilt upward, tips his head back to look at Zayn upside down and there’s caramel specks dancing in those brown eyes.  He shakes his head, doesn’t think tea will help soothe Zayn either but the older man is shrugging and slipping away again.

When Zayn slides onto the couch, slumping against Liam as Waliyha kicks her legs up and rests them on Zayn’s lap, Liam stiffens a little.  Zayn doesn’t notice, head resting on Liam’s shoulder and it takes a few beats before Liam settles.  He tries not to stare, but his eyes seem completely focused on how rich and tan Zayn’s skin is with that soft light from the television ghosting over him.  There’s more scruff on his face, cheeks sharp, and his bottom lip is a bit raw from probably chewing on it too hard.  The tattoos don’t intrigue him as much as the way Zayn’s shoulders are just the right size and his arms are wiry but toned, just the right build.  There’s no defining six-pack but his stomach is perfectly flat and Liam can spot the curves and dips that show definition.  There’s thick hair starting just at the edge of his navel, slipping down underneath sweats that hang low on slender hips when Zayn stands up straight.

Waliyha clicks on some a movie, _Toy Story 3,_ and Liam wonders did Zayn know how much he loves this movie before he hears Waliyha giggling out, “So this is how I spend my summer?  With my brother and his mate?  Absolutely dorky.”

“Could be worse,” Zayn starts, unconsciously resting a hand on the one Liam has on Waliyha’s head, “it could be you, me, and Louis.”

Waliyha makes a mock annoyed sound, kicking at her brother before sighing pleasantly.  “Nope.  I think I like Liam better.”

Zayn snorts while blush ripples along Liam’s cheeks, his skin unbearably hot under Zayn’s hand.  He doesn’t know why but he tilts his head to the side and lets it rest on top of Zayn’s, eyes on the screen as Zayn says softly, “Me too.”

“I’m kicking you out of your bed.  No way I’m going in there with Saf.  She’s probably contagious,” Waliyha muses, hand resting on Liam’s knee.  It feels vaguely like the way his older sisters were with him and he’s trying not to adore the feeling.

Liam leans back a little, catches Zayn rolling his eyes with a smile, head still not removed from Liam’s shoulder.

“Fine,” Zayn says flatly, tugging on one of her ears until she swats at him, “but no telling mum ‘til I get her to the doctor.  You know she’ll freak and rush home.”

Waliyha agrees inaudibly, eyes drifting shut.  Liam slips his hand to her shoulder, fingers drumming lightly while Zayn perks up a little, fingers tracing down Liam’s forearm to his wrist.

“Nice,” Zayn whispers, fingertips running over the script on Liam’s wrist: _‘Only time will tell…’_

“Not as many as you,” Liam notes, voice a bit choked but he hides it well.

Zayn snickers, his breath sinfully hot against Liam’s shoulder.  “Not yet.  I’m sure I’ll corrupt you somehow.”

Liam is thankful Zayn can’t see the way his cheeks flush red, the way his chews the corner of his bottom lip nervously.  He doesn’t pull away from Zayn, let’s fingers pet his skin like a child discovering a new treasure.  He swallows hard, thinks about Niall because that’s where his mind should be.  It shouldn’t be on the way this feels so domestic, Zayn with his sisters _and_ Liam, but it does.  It’s the yellow brick road ending and when Zayn settles comfortably against him, lashes curled and framing his cheek, breathing slowing down just a bit, Liam refuses to remove himself from it all.

**

Liam doesn’t know why but he’s laughing; genuinely laughing.  It probably has to do with the way Niall keeps pulling faces, making fun of the bartender who managed to mess up at least two of Liam’s drinks and kept asking Niall to say something in Irish as if that was another language but he can’t help the way his stomach tightens, his cheeks hurt from smiling and he nearly doubles over each time Niall tries to imitate her accent, and does so disturbingly well.  But Niall’s got a hand on Liam’s shoulder, pleasantly buzzed, and maybe _this_ is the kind of date they should have had originally.  Not the kind planned out by Louis but the one _Liam_ invited Niall on after spending two weeks chatting with Niall and dancing around the idea.

Louis thought it was an incredibly daft idea: a night with just Liam and Niall drinking at a pub instead of touring the city and dining somewhere fancy where the lights are low and little candles decorate the table.  But everything about it was comfortable and Niall didn’t seem to mind at all, not even when they were arguing over the football match on the telly, sloshing their drinks on the bar every time they leapt up to cheer on their respective team.  Niall stuffed his face with nosh and made fun of Liam, mouthful, when Liam’s team lost.  But then Niall ran a hand over his shoulder, comforting, before fingers traced up and over the back of Liam’s neck.  They were both sunburn red then, Liam begging for some relief and then there was the waitress again, leaving Liam grinning while Niall rolled his eyes at some pleasantly dodgy thing she said.

“And then Harry walked right into the microphone stand trying to flirt with some girl in the audience.  He was absolutely pissed on whiskey by then,” Niall laughs out, hand resting comfortably on Liam’s shoulder as Liam jiggles the handle to his, wait, no, _Louis’_ flat but it opens.  Louis was expecting them, Liam texting him twenty minutes before their cab even got there and Liam’s grinning back at Niall as Niall tries to reenact the enter scene.

“Sounds like Styles,” Louis sighs out and Liam startles a little, narrows his eyes at Louis curled up on the couch while Zayn sat on the floor, eyebrow quirked upward.  Liam had hoped Louis got the impression that he wanted time _alone_ with Niall but Louis had always been quite daft when it came to subtlety.

“Oh, you should’ve seen him.  Kid’s never touched whiskey a day in his life and he picks the night of our first show to do it,” Niall boasts, edging by Liam toward Louis.  Liam tries not to look annoyed but, _come on_ Louis.

Louis makes a pleased noise, grinning.  “I should probably teach him a thing or two about getting sloshed.”

“Right,” Liam grumbles, kicking the door closed, “Maybe you could do that like _now?_ ”

Louis’ brow raises, his eyes shifting a bit between Niall and Liam before he’s grinning menacingly.  Liam drops his head, wishes sometimes he had better friends.

“I take it you two had a splendid time?” Louis asks and his tone is so shit-eating proud that Liam wants to vomit.

“Oi, did we.  This guy is incredible,” Niall says, practically slurs out as he waves his arms at Liam.  He reaches back, pulls Liam forward as if to show him off and Liam hesitates, feels his cheeks flush.  Zayn’s looking up, lips pressed together but he can see there’s some sort of frown peeking at the edges.

“He is quite the catch,” Louis hums and if Liam was close enough, he’d sock that smile right off of Louis’ face.

Niall giggles one of those drunken giggles that Liam kind of hates but he forces out a smile, patting Niall’s shoulder.  His blue eyes are a bit glazed and that grin is ridiculous against his face but Liam likes the way it’s just for Liam right now.  He traces his hand backward, feels the sharp definition of Niall’s shoulder blades, down the ridges of Niall’s spine and he lets his hand rest on the small of Niall’s back.

“You two should do this again.  You know, this whole date thing,” Louis remarks, leaning forward with keen interest.  He’s pleasantly chuffed now and Liam can _feel_ the way he’s staring at them.  He thinks maybe Zayn is actually glaring but when he looks down, Zayn is fiddling with a loose string on his chinos, not even bothering to glance at Liam.

“We should definitely hang again.  Oh, you’ve got to come to one of our shows mate.  Cheap beer, good music, and watching Harry fucking Styles make a complete ass out of himself when he’s had one too many shots,” Niall announces loudly, laughing with too much enthusiasm when Liam offers him a sideways grin.

“Yes, sounds absolutely tragic,” Louis sighs, falling back down onto the couch.  He frowns a little, “Any night with Harry Styles sounds like the dog’s bullocks.  Or death by self-inflicted strangulation.”

“You’ll come?” Niall asks and Liam looks down into those big, batting blue eyes and he doesn’t want to melt but something about Niall’s innocence carries him away.

Liam nibbles on his lower lip, feels it get a bit raw before nodding.  “Definitely.”

Niall’s face brightens like the sun high in the sky, stepping up on his tiptoes to throw his arms around Liam’s neck and then there’s a sloppy kiss pressed to his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth, and Liam’s eyes go wide as he tries to steady Niall.

Niall pulls back when a hand smacks against the couch and Liam’s head jerks in the direction of the sound, watches Zayn push himself up and snatch his leather jacket from where it was resting on the arm of the couch.  Liam thinks it’s a little too warm outside for the jacket but it’s just a distraction from the way Zayn’s face goes indifferent as he shrugs it on.  He mutters something to Louis, speeds by Liam and Niall before Liam’s mouth can form words but he knows he shouldn’t.  The way Zayn’s shoulders are set, the way his fingers are balled into fists, and his head hangs low as he pulls open the door and nearly stomps out while quietly shutting the door back makes Liam almost forget Niall’s there.

“Right,” Louis mouths out before darting his eyes away from Liam’s.  “So, when is the show?”

Niall squeaks out a laugh as he’s backing away, adjusting the backwards snapback on his head.  He’s a little unsteady with his footing but that goofy grin moves back over his lips.  He’s scratching at the back of his neck but Liam barely notices, eyes finding the door and wondering if maybe Zayn will walk back through it, let him explain.  Not that he has anything to explain because Liam was on a date with Niall, not Zayn.  Liam was giving his attention to Niall, the guy who _wanted_ Liam’s attention, right?

“I should go.  Stuff to do in the morning,” Niall notes, turning with a little wobble.  Louis snorts from the couch, hand over his mouth.

“Okay,” Liam whispers, doesn’t make any attempt to escort Niall toward the door though he should.  He should walk Niall downstairs, kiss him proper like guys do, like _he_ does after a date, but he just lets Niall walk out with a little wave.

“Bloody brilliant Li,” Louis remarks, curled smile on his lips as Liam stares blankly at him.

“What?”

Louis shakes his head, throws his hands up.  “Fucking bullshit.  I give you the perfect match and you let him walk home drunk.  _Alone_.  I’m stuck here, fated to be single, and you could be getting royally fucked by a cute Irish boy if you sorted things out better.  Fucking bullshit Li.”

Liam sighs, keeps his thoughts to himself.  He chews on his thumbnail and he resigns to sliding down onto the couch next to Louis, letting Louis rub a soft hand along his head as he broods.  He doesn’t want any of it anymore.  The thoughts, the desire for something more with anyone, the hurt that comes right along with it.  He kind of hates Louis because he brought him out of this shell he’d fixed so perfectly around himself.  He’d done so well at _not_ wanting to find love that he’s not very good at getting why it still wants him so bad.

He and Louis do go to one of Harry and Niall’s shows but they bring Jesy, Eleanor, and Cher along.  Louis is pleasantly tickled at the band name, the Styles Effect, but Liam just rolls his eyes and slings an arm around Eleanor’s small shoulders.  They sit with Josh most of the show and Liam meets Ed, the other guitarist who’s unnaturally calm and cool about everything, cherry red hair strung out all over his head and his beard is a brighter shade closer to orange.  Liam sips on water while everyone chokes on cheap, flat beer until Harry sends them a round of shots, toasting them from the stage before he takes his third tequila shot.

Harry wails through most of the songs, sounds incredible when he really reaches for the right notes, and Liam can’t help the way he bites down on his lip when he catches Louis staring at him in awe.  Niall’s all smiles and he absolutely soaks it all in, playing along with girls in the audience and jamming way too hard when they do a few covers of the Eagles.  They crowd into the booth when there’s an intermission, Niall throwing his arms around Liam and Eleanor with a red face and sweat sliding down his temple.  Harry nearly crawls into Louis’ lap to find a space to sit and Louis’ blushing uncontrollably, shoving him off when Liam turns his eyes on Louis.  They order another round of shots and Harry’s flirting happily with Jesy, bright green eyes dancing, and he’s so cheeky that Liam doesn’t have to wonder how he always manages to have someone hanging on his every word.

Liam wonders where Zayn is but doesn’t ask.  Louis has become decidedly curious about it all, the way Zayn looks at Liam, the way they’re so close even though Louis’ known Zayn much longer.  He merely avoids the subject most times and tonight is no exception.

He mingles his way through all of the conversations, laughs at all the appropriate times and grins when Niall gives him that fond look before drifting his attention to Eleanor.  Liam’s not even the slightest jealous this time, looks past them to catch the way Harry’s playing with Louis’ hair while giving a long, drawn out story to Jesy as if it’s the best story ever but Jesy looks bored and Cher’s giggling behind her hand.  He sips on his water, listens to the music fuzzing through the pub before Niall and Harry get up to play their next set.  And Liam misses most of what Louis says about Harry’s smile or his eyes or maybe his hands, bobbing his head to the music and his mind is briefly filled with inked skin, gold freckled through brown eyes, shadowy black hair: _Standing there with nothing on. She gone teach me how to swim… You turn me on with your electric feel._

**

There’s a sigh crossing Liam’s lips, more like a breath of disturbed air as he looks down at his phone.  It’s been forty-two minutes this time and, honestly, Liam doesn’t give a fuck.  It’s been too long and when he glances over the text from Louis – _Niall had to cancel. Friends in town. Went to football match in London. Want to cuddle?_ – He clicks delete before he has a chance to read it over again, shoves his phone in his pocket so he doesn’t call Niall.  He’s sure Niall wouldn’t answer, probably would shoot him a shit text in the morning apologizing but Liam’s just not in the mood.  He’s been waiting outside of the cinema for almost an hour and he’s already missed the showing for whatever romantic film he was supposed to be taking Niall to see, in a dark theatre where he could hold Niall’s hand, maybe snog him even though they were not on that level.  Not yet, is what he tells himself.

He’s turning, kicking at the sidewalk before he hears “Liam! Hey Liam!” It’s not Niall, there’s no lithe Irish accent dragging his name out but it’s so familiar.  He glances over his shoulder, tries not to let them slump forward when he sees Harry waving him down.  Of course Niall’s best mate had to catch him, would probably ask what he’s doing there _alone_ but he rocks back on his heels for a few beats before spinning back around, scratching at his head with a polite smile as Harry runs up to him.

“You’re leaving?” Harry asks a little breathless.  His hands do that swift sweep of his hair, shaking his head for his bangs to fall back in place and Liam is amused and decidedly impressed at how well Harry does it.

“Yeah,” Liam drags out, scoffs the toe of his Converse against the cement with his eyes lowered.  “Niall cancelled our date.”

“Oh,” Harry says, eyes a little wide and Liam tries not to feel gutted.

“It’s fine, really.  I was a bit knackered anyway,” Liam insists, fakes a yawn, and he wonders if he sounds even the slightest bit believable.

Harry nods and there’s that hint of distrust leaving Liam feeling foolish for trying to lie.  But Harry grins at him, drops a hand onto his shoulder before squeezing it softly.  That’s the thing about Harry – he doesn’t make things uncomfortable for anyone.  He’s indescribably laidback but loud when he needs to be.  He’s unfiltered energy but incessantly kind and understanding.  He’s moody like anyone but, in the right moment, he’s got the world sitting in the palm of his hand and he _always_ knows what to do with it.

“Well, being that you’re free now, we,” Harry motions his head backward and it’s the first time Liam glances past Harry to see Zayn standing not too far behind, “are about to catch a film.  We can’t decide because I’m dying to see something funny and poor Zayn here wants to see –“

“They’re re-showing _The Dark Knight Rises_ ,” Zayn finishes with an almost childlike enchantment in his expression, wide eyes and a smile stroking his lips.

Liam nods, cheeks pulled up when he grins at Zayn.  Something about that last time they were around each other, Zayn leaving him behind after Niall’s kiss, has faded into the cool summer breeze.

“And so you can see my dilemma because, really, I’ve had enough of this kid and Batman,” Harry sighs out, pulling back some until he’s standing next to Zayn, long arm thrown around Zayn’s smaller shoulders.

“Kid?  You’re younger than me Har,” Zayn argues, face scrunching.

“Tis not the point chap,” Harry grins out, shaking Zayn a little.  He turns those emerald eyes back on Liam and Liam feels small beneath them.  “Care to join us?”

Liam gnaws on his bottom lip for a few seconds, fixes his eyes on Zayn.  He doesn’t know why but he needs Zayn’s permission, needs Zayn to _want_ him there.  Not because he has to be around Zayn, but he does want that carefree friendship back.  He wants all the bad and uncomfortable stuff erased.  He wants to laugh with Zayn and let awkward choke its way out of his mind when he cuddles up to Zayn because Zayn is warm and friendly and quite possibly the most touchy person he knows but Liam likes it.

Harry trades glances between the two, Zayn nibbling on his own lip while looking on Liam.  There’s a dimple-inducing grin spreading over his red lips and he’s slipping an arm off of Zayn like he knows something but Liam can’t decipher what.  Zayn doesn’t notice and Harry yanks his phone from his pocket, clicks it on like it’s buzzing but Liam knows it isn’t.

“Oh shit, I completely forget.  Bugger all.  I told my sis Gemma I’d meet her for dinner tonight.  Completely slipped my mind,” Harry announces and it’s almost convincing if not for that toothy grin on Harry’s lips as he stumbles away from Zayn.  Liam squares his jaw, peers his eyes at Harry as he waves at them.

“But you two should go see a film.  Do the Batman thing.  I’m quite certain you’ll have fun,” Harry insists, winks at Zayn when the older boy shoots him an incredulous look.

“But –“

“Bloody go, Malik.  I’ll catch up with you later.  _Much_ later,” Harry orders, eyebrows waggling and Liam’s sighing, shoveling his hands into his pockets as Harry waves again.

“Oh, and Liam,” Harry calls and Liam lifts his chin as Harry grins.  “Please do tell your best mate I said to go fuck himself.”

Liam chuckles, shakes his head and Harry’s dipping around the corner before he or Zayn can say anything else.  He’s turning to face Zayn again and Zayn’s rubbing at the back of his neck, flickered shyness that leaves him glancing at Liam only every once in a while.  Liam feels the way his lips quirk, rocks back and forth on his heels as Zayn shuffles a foot over the cement.

“If we hurry, we can grab some popcorn and snacks,” Liam finally says, words rolling against a sigh.  He hates the awkwardness and the way it’s filtering between them but then Zayn’s looking up, tepid smile folding over his lips.  He takes a glance toward the cinema and then back to Liam, lashes batting in that innocent way that Liam had not known Zayn for.

“Buy you a chocolate bar?” Zayn offers, reaching out and wrapping fingers around Liam’s wrist to pull his hand from his pocket.

Liam chuckles, doesn’t bother hiding his smile when Zayn grins at him.  He lets Zayn tug on him, drag him towards the doors.

“I love chocolate,” Liam says quietly while Zayn pulls out his wallet, slides the attendant a few quid to pay for their tickets.

Zayn glances back over his shoulder, yanking Liam inside before handing the usher their tickets.  He’s got a bemused grin on his lips before whispering, “I know.”

Liam blushes, the window on his emotions opening and relief washes over him.  He’s a middle distance runner suddenly, reaching for new heights but knowing his limitations.  He feels when Zayn’s hand slips down his wrist and he automatically cups it before it can fall away, holding Zayn’s hand as the other man pulls him toward the concession stand.  He doesn’t spot the blush on Zayn’s face from where he stands but it freckles over Zayn’s neck and Liam has to lean forward to see Zayn biting on his lower lip while grinning.

They get seats at the back of the theater, only a few other people inside because most people caught the film the first time it was at the cinema.  They kick their feet up on the back of the seats in front of them, Zayn throwing popcorn in his mouth while Liam sips Pepsi through his straw.  They chat through the previews, Zayn talking about how good Safaa is doing now and how his mother didn’t have a complete meltdown when he told her.  Liam tells him about Uni and his upcoming courses, talks about Louis for a bit because he keeps texting and Liam finally shuts his phone off halfway through a story Zayn tells about Harry always flirting with girls but really liking guys, something only Zayn and Niall know.

When the movie starts they both go quiet suddenly, slouching into their seats and looking on in amazement.  Liam giggles into his hand when Zayn does his best to imitate Bane’s voice but it goes horribly wrong and Zayn scrunches his nose with a giggle.  Liam struggles not to blush when Zayn leans into him the first time Selina Kyle appears onscreen, eyes crinkling with his smile when Zayn whispers about how hot she is but he thinks somebody else is hotter.  Somewhere in the middle, maybe after Miranda Tate sleeps with Bruce Wayne, Zayn slips his hand into the one Liam has on the armrest between them.  It’s hesitant, fingers tickling Liam’s palm for a beat until Liam stretches and slowly intertwines their fingers, holding Zayn’s hand tightly.

“Is that okay?” Liam asks softly because they’ve already been hushed twice by an older couple a few rows in front of them.

Zayn ducks his head, chewing innocently along his lip once more, nodding.  Liam grins, thumb stroking along the skin on the back of Zayn’s hand before turning his attention back to the screen.  He lets them stay like that, Zayn’s head finally resting on his shoulder while he holds Zayn’s hand through every action scene, through Miranda’s betrayal, and even through that moment Alfred spots Bruce in Paris with Selina.  Zayn recites the last few lines quietly, not missing a beat, childlike wonder warping his face and Liam knows he was like that the first time he saw the movie.

He knows he was like that the first time he watched Zayn.

They don’t hold hands on the way out but they walk shoulder to shoulder, Zayn playfully nudging his side a few times and Liam ruffles Zayn’s quiff a time or two, Zayn faking anger but there’s always a smile dipped into that scowl.  They laugh, shoving each other with crinkled eyes and unbreakable smiles.

There’s that song from Louis’ car again – _Try, try to forget what’s in the past; tomorrow is here_ – and he’s strolling halfway to nowhere with Zayn by his side.  He almost forgets Niall until he hears the Eagles blaring from some overhead speaker as they walk through a park.  And then it’s a reminder, an unwelcome interruption.  He was supposed to be out with Niall, on a _date_ with Niall not that he was on one with Zayn.  No, they were just together, enjoying each other’s company like friends would, right?  He likes to lie to himself then.  It’s dizzying but so is looking at Zayn’s eyes for too long.

He doesn’t know where they are when they stop but Zayn’s in front of him, chewing on his bottom lip and Liam’s not certain why but he lifts a hand, index finger toying with Zayn’s chin until that bottom lip falls from between teeth.  He smiles down at Zayn even though Zayn’s nearly his height.  He pokes at Zayn’s lips with his finger, a childish move that leaves Zayn giggling.  Liam joins him, eyes closed as it tickles over him and he blinks them open just in time to see Zayn rock forward onto his tiptoes and incline forward.

Liam steadies his hands on Zayn’s hips so he doesn’t fall.  Zayn’s lips are a bit chapped yet they still feel soft against Liam’s.  His eyes are wide, Zayn’s closed, and he doesn’t know what else to do but let Zayn kiss him.  It’s nice, a tad daunting in the way he knows he’ll want more, and he waits until the last minute to nuzzle his lips against Zayn’s, kissing back for just a breath.  He hasn’t decided why he doesn’t back away immediately though he knows it’s a bad idea but that small moan at the back of Zayn’s throat makes him pinch his fingers into Zayn’s hips and wait just a little longer to break the kiss.

Zayn stays there, eyes blinking open with his forehead against Liam’s.  He’s a bit startled and Liam’s not used to that look.  He’s used to confident Zayn, the one that walks like he owns every fucking thing and dares someone to say otherwise.  He’s used to the Zayn that just doesn’t give a shit after a while but this Zayn _does_.

“Sorry?”

“You sure?” Liam asks, eyes batting and Zayn’s pulling back some.

“Not really,” Zayn whispers, rubbing at his own lips like they’re on fire.

Liam lets a sideways grin pass over his lips because there was the cocky Zayn Liam knew beneath this exterior.  He lets a hand run over the length of Zayn’s cheek, fingers missing that scruff but finding utter pleasure in the softness of the skin.  He hates irony because it’s right there, drumming through that overhead speaker again: _‘cause you never were and you never will be mine._

“I should go.  Get home to my sisters before the sitter leaves or before Waliyha kills Saf,” Zayn says, backing away further.

Liam nods, knows he should say something else.  He should probably reach out, drag Zayn that distance between them to kiss him again, proper with tongue and hands running over Zayn’s back.  He lets Zayn continue to walk backwards though, lips pursing sideways.

“Thanks Liam,” Zayn adds, shoving his hands into the pockets on his letterman jacket.  Liam quirks up a curious eyebrow and Zayn snorts.  “For tonight.  For everything.”

Liam stands there blinking as Zayn finally turns and walks away.  He thinks his heart is somewhere in his lungs now because it _burns_ when he breathes and he wants Zayn back.  He wants him so close again that he can look at those lashes, study the softness of his lips, breathe in the scent of raspberries and smoke from the pack of fags Zayn’s probably already smoked.  He wants to imagine running his tongue over the roof of Zayn’s mouth while his thumb runs over the stubble still over Zayn’s upper lip.  He wants Zayn to wrap his arms around him even though he’s bigger than Zayn and it would be a little awkward at first.

He closes his eyes, painful frown crosses over his lips, and he realizes he just might not want these same things from Niall.

**

“Take him out for take-away and go back to your place.  Chinese!  You love that one place… what’s it called?”

Louis is incredibly loud and his words are a bit slurred but Liam can’t help but let his lips twitch upward.  He forced Liam out of his flat around nine that night, rambling on and on about being fed up with his parents because they threatened to take away his car if he doesn’t babysit his sisters for two weeks while they go on holiday at the end of the summer.  Louis’ solution?  Steal a bottle of wine from their collection, snatch the keys to the rec center’s pool and drag Liam down there.  Oh, and for some unexplainable reason, Harry is no longer the bane of his existence so he rings him up and Harry’s right there, parked in one of the lounge chairs with his legs pulled close to his body and his bare feet pressing into the soft, expensive fabric of his seat.  Liam likes Harry and, admittedly to himself, he prefers Harry’s quiet comfort to Louis’ loud disorderliness.

Liam’s soaking his feet in the water, chinos rolled up to his knees while he leans back and watches Louis dance around the edge of the pool.  It’s awfully dangerous but Liam figures if Louis falls in drunk it’ll save him the trouble of drowning Louis himself.  Plus he knows he’s a good enough swimmer to save Louis before he truly dies but the scare would be a nice role reversal, would it not?

“You’re pissed mate,” Harry notes, picking at the threads on his holey jeans while watching Louis.

“And you look ridiculous with that thing covering up those beautiful curls of yours,” Louis snaps, finger twirling in the air as some kind of sign Harry supposed to understand but he’s too busy pulling his beanie further onto his head, mouth agape.

Liam rolls his eyes, decides that Harry’s never going to catch onto the way Louis insults him with a compliment served on the side each and every time.  It’s funny in its own right but he’ll never let Harry in on the joke.  He merely kicks his feet back and forth in the water, likes the way the cool water feels while the humid air around them swallows him.  He can hear the music blaring from Louis’ cell phone – _I’m feeling rough, I’m feeling raw; I’m in the prime of my life_ – and it’s loud and rattling but it’s soothing for Louis.  It’s an anthem, proud and drumming, and Liam sort of bobs his head along, catches Harry doing the same.

“Now back to you and what’s his face,” Louis slurs, snapping his fingers at Liam.

“Niall,” Liam says flatly, glancing back up to Louis.

“Niall!  The Horan kid,” Louis announces with glee, laughing before taking another long sip from the bottle of wine he’s clutching, some of the red substance dribbling down his chin.  “What’s the name of the place I want you to take him?”

“Cosmo,” Liam sighs out.

“Yes, _Cosmo_ ,” Louis giggles out, shoulders bobbing along to the music.  He’s mouthing the words: _I’ll move to Paris, shoot some heroin and fuck with the stars._

“You do know that’s back home in Wolverhampton, yeah?” Liam asks, shaking his head when Louis does a little twirl that leaves him a bit off balance but he doesn’t tip over into the pool.  He hasn’t had the nerve to tell Louis about Zayn or the kiss or any of it.  He’s avoided it himself, lying to himself about it all.  It could be some sort of pleasant misunderstanding and Zayn hasn’t said anything to him for two days so maybe it wasn’t all that important anyway.

Louis plops down onto the end of Harry’s chair, slurping down some more wine before shoving the bottle in Harry’s direction.  Harry’s face pinches up and he’s shaking his head, Louis scoffing before jerking the bottle back.

“So take him home.  Meet the folks.  Get married and have six kids,” Louis muses, giggling.  He glances at Harry, lopsided grin on his lips.  “Niall’s Irish, you know.  He’ll like that many kids.”

“You’re quite mental, you know,” Harry says flatly, nudging Louis’ hip with his toes.

“And you are quite ace,” Louis laughs out, tipping his head back to sip a little more wine.

“I think taking him back to my flat would be a bit forward since we haven’t been on that many dates,” Liam notes, foot kicking up to splash some water across the pool.  “Maybe a walk in the park?”

“Fucking bullshit Li.  How many dates does it take you before you get a guy back to your flat for a good old fashion blowjob or slow, hard _fuck?_ ” Louis asks with a hiss and Liam’s eyes go wide, Harry’s too.  Louis shrugs, waves them off and rocks along with the music: _This is our decision to live fast and die young.  We’ve got the vision, now let’s have some fun._

“Right, so that was a ‘no’ to the walk in the park?” Liam questions, peeking past Louis toward Harry who shrugs indifferently.

“I still don’t think you should be chasing Niall,” Harry says offhandedly, rubbing at his forehead.

Liam nods, doesn’t want to know why but he sees the way Louis’ lips quirk and he sighs loudly before it starts.

“And why’s that Styles?  Is my friend not dishy enough for your mate?  Is he too quiet?  Too polite?  Too fucking nice for Niall?  He’s fit enough, you have to admit,” Louis states, words bitten and Harry’s face is wrinkling.

“That’s not it –“

“Well then what the fuck is it?  I know what I’m talking about sunshine and this one,” Louis’ hiking a thumb in Liam’s direction and he’s doing his best not to wince, “is in need of something to block out all the shit relationships he’s had before.”

Harry rolls his eyes but Louis’ not backing down.  “I’m good at these things.  I _know_ these things,” Louis declares, leaning toward Harry and Liam bites down on his lip, waits for Harry to finally punch Louis and be done with it.

Harry’s seething, it’s in his eyes, but he’s not budging.  He sneers, inches closer to Louis.  “You’re so good at setting up your friend but you’re quite blinkered when it comes to your own lack-thereof love life, yeah?  Poor Tomlinson says he doesn’t want anyone but, honestly, you’re scared.  You’re brilliantly awful at getting a date for yourself and this piss poor effort to _make_ Liam fall in love with a guy he can’t even figure out whether he likes after nearly _three_ dates is just to cover all of this up.  You’re shit at love Louis, admit it.”

Louis’ eyes are wide, mouth hanging open and Liam’s trying to bite back the smug smile drifting over his lips but he can’t.  He can’t deny he likes the way Harry’s own lips tip up into a grin, satisfied.  Had he been anyone else Louis would’ve poured the remainder of that wine all over him but Louis just kind of sits there, blank faced until he can sort it out.

“Not true,” Louis finally says, his voice a little small.  He squints at Harry, lips battling between a frown and a snarl.

“If you say so,” Harry replies with a shrug.

“You fucking bastard, you don’t know me and –“

Harry’s lurching forward before Louis finishes his rant.  He’s swallowing Louis’ face with his two big hands and yanking him the rest of the distance.  Their lips are smashed together and Liam’s makes that “oh” sound that Louis can’t because his wide-eyed while Harry moves his lips so expertly over his own.  Harry’s smiling into the kiss, calculated angling of his head and Liam hears the moan rattling in Louis’ throat as his eyes finally shut and he drifts lazily into the kiss.

Liam doesn’t want to vomit, not entirely, but watching the way Louis’ hand slips the beanie off of Harry’s head to slide his finger through the thick curls while Harry dips a hand behind Louis’ head to hold him in the kiss isn’t exactly his idea of a smashingly good time.  He can’t help the small grin that waltzes over his lips though.  Louis looks genuinely happy in the kiss, lips parting to give Harry entrance and its Harry’s turn to moan this time.

Louis’ quiet afterward, staring blankly at Harry while Harry’s dimples flare and his cheeks speckle with pink blush.  He’s used to Harry being so cheeky, in control but there’s a boy still in there.  Liam snorts, rubbing at the back of his head and watches as Harry gingerly rubs a thumb over Louis’ shiny bottom lip, wiping away the spit.

“Somebody owes El some money for calling that one,” Liam says mockingly but Louis doesn’t respond.  He’s still stutter-stuck quiet and Liam doesn’t mind at all.

Harry just nods, the far away expression in his eyes saying it all.  He giggles quietly, pushes his fingers through Louis’ spiky hair before whispering “Sorted.”

**

Liam doesn’t talk to Zayn for a week.  Not that he’s supposed to and he doesn’t bother to ask Louis where he is the few times he does stop by Louis’ flat and Zayn’s not around but it leaves him lying in his bed for hours thinking about it, trying to piece together _what_ he’s done and _why_ he seems to think about Zayn more than anything.  He doesn’t even bother to go with Louis and El to one of Harry and Niall’s shows though Louis begs him, sad eyes and a pout lingering.  He’s polite about it all, waving Louis off though he’s a bit certain his best mate wants him around just so he has some reason not to stare at Harry all night long.

He invites Niall to a mid-summer party that El throws at Jesy’s flat but it’s him who cancels at the last minute, not Niall.  He’s vague about the reasoning when he calls Niall, not too chicken shit to at least break the date proper unlike Niall, but he’s not in the mood for vodka and lemonade or shots of bourbon, not even those silly Jell-o shots that El loves to make and force him to eat off of some random stranger’s stomach.  He knows Niall goes anyway, Louis tells him, but he doesn’t want details.  He sits at home that Friday night doing something he never does: reading.  He starts a Harry Potter book he’s never finished and let’s himself curl up in a chair, turning pages for hours and part of him wonders if he’s doing this just because Zayn had mentioned it’s one of his favorite books when they were chatting over tea once.

It’s a Tuesday when Liam gets the call; not from Zayn, from Louis.  Zayn’s grandfather passed, a few days earlier, and Liam’s a little manic for a few hours because he wants to know why Zayn didn’t call, why Zayn’s been ignoring him, and why he suddenly has this itching desire to buy a damn bus ticket to Bradford just to hold onto Waliyha and Safaa while they cry.  He feels incredibly silly, letting it all be about him, and doesn’t deny Niall entrance when he comes by his flat later, swelling hug that Liam sighs into, wishing it wasn’t Niall with his arms around him.

It takes him a day or so to push the idea of sending Zayn a text out of his mind.  If Zayn wanted to chat, wanted to hear from _Liam_ he’d have done something about it, yeah?  It’s what Liam tells himself while sitting on one of the picnic tables down by the field.  The sun is raised high and the heat is consuming but the trees shade him from it all, thumbs twiddling while watching Niall, Louis, Harry, Eleanor, and Cher have a go at a very uncompetitive game of football.  It’s more of Niall trying to teach Eleanor and Cher the right moves to make while Louis pretends not to fall into Harry every time he tries to make a pass.  Liam knows Louis’ a bit chuffed at the idea of being around Harry without arguing and he’s a blushing mess every chance Eleanor gets to take a piss at him about it, but when Louis thinks no one’s looking he yanks Harry down into a tongue-filled kiss before shoving him away like he’s disgusted by the concept.  Liam always catches them, always spots the way Harry scratches at his curls with cheeks high and blush coloring them.

“Waliyha talks about you,” Harry states after jogging up, hopping onto the tabletop next to Liam.  Liam’s brow raises, tries to show mild interest but he doesn’t want his mind to wander there.

“Hmm.”

“She says she misses you.  Safaa really misses you,” Harry adds, resting a large hand on Liam’s knee.  It’s comforting in a way only Harry can be as his other hand slides through his curls.

“Have you chatted with him?” Liam wonders, knows he shouldn’t.

Harry quickly shakes his head, lips tilting toward a frown.  “Waliyha says he doesn’t talk to anyone really, just cries a bit and hides off in his room.  It’s rough but _he_ misses you.”

“You don’t know that,” Liam chews out, staring out toward the field rather than into those sincere green eyes.  He knows Harry will be the death of him if he does look at him.

“I do and I sorted out that you most likely miss him too.  You miss him loads,” Harry declares and that was the difference between Louis and Harry: Louis’ words always came with a need for self-assurance while Harry’s were just a declaration, no guarantee needed.

Liam chuckles bitterly, eyes Niall as he scoops up Eleanor and twirls her around mid-field.  He chews hard on his bottom lip, waits to taste copper as he replies, “Doesn’t matter.  Summer’s nearly over and I’ll be off to Uni again.”

Harry nods slowly, sighing.  “And you’ll be fine, right?  Louis says you’ve never been too fond of being in love in the summer.  Or at all, honestly.”

“At all,” Liam repeats lowly, eyes dropping.  He watches the way Harry’s fingers gently squeeze his knee, flexing and it aches somewhere on the inside.

“I think I’ve liked Louis for ages,” Harry blurts out, eyes dropping and cheeks flaring a pink color that Liam’s used to seeing on little girls when they’re wearing Sunday dressing gowns.  Harry snorts, nose scrunching up before he says, “I was quite fine ignoring it though because Louis is an arse.  He’s stubborn and full of himself and he could quite possibly be the daftest person I’ve ever met when it comes to matters concerning love.  But I liked him, stupidity and all.”

“And that’s the funny thing because I could be cheeky with women forever, never fancied me’self having a boyfriend and it’d be absolutely ace,” Harry adds, eyes turning to the field where Louis and Niall are kicking the ball back and forth with loud, shouting laughter.  “Then I kissed him.  I kissed him and I liked it and I wasn’t so happy being alone anymore.  I couldn’t be the chap who got shitfaced just to make a girl think I enjoyed her company.  I was shit at pretending as a kid and I still am.”

Liam blinks at Harry, teeth chewing softly at his lip now.  Harry’s grinning, turning his eyes on Liam and Liam wants to hate the honesty there because it’s saying a million more things that Liam was terrified to hear.  He just nods slowly, chews on his thumbnail for a beat.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Liam whispers and his voice cracks.  Fuck it all, his voice breaks and it always starts like that: _the pain_.

“It never is chap,” Harry grins out, patting Liam’s knee.  The ball slowly rolls their way and Harry smirks, easing down off the tabletop.  He scoops it up before turning back toward Liam, warming smile that Liam finds himself smiling back at.

“Let Niall down easily though, yeah?  Who knows?  The dim bloke might’ve actually started to enjoy you being around,” Harry notes before skipping off toward the field again.

Liam drops his head into his hands, elbows balancing on his knees while his thumbs rub at his temples.  Just that quickly Harry fucking Styles had broken down all his wonderful barriers and he was feeling twelve again, but instead of chasing some curly haired girl he was chasing some tattooed boy who ink black hair and eyes that were six different shades of brown.  It’s all quite scary and he thinks he just might find better ways of killing Louis Tomlinson for starting all of this in the first place.

There’s something about being beneath the surface of the water that settles all of his thoughts.  The sun’s dipping low behind pinkish skies and everything that was once aqua seems to sift into a more azure color across his lids.  His strokes are quick and firm, he’s not entirely sure he wants to ever surface again but he has to for air.  And the evening is warm against his skin, wadding somewhere near the deeper in the pool and he feels like he hasn’t been in this part of the water since he met Zayn, always somewhere near the shallow end because Safaa wanted to learn how to be a better swimmer and Zayn was terrified of any part of the water that rode close to his shoulders.

He’s been here for hours, late on a Sunday because the pool at the rec center closes early and Louis managed to sneak him the keys so he can stay a little longer after closing.  He promised to lock everything up and Louis was still a bit weary, not because Liam is irresponsible, but because he didn’t want Liam to be alone.  It’s something Liam’s done far too often now but Liam liked being on his own, free to let his thoughts fade away instead of making them a weekly conversation like Louis would.

When Liam’s wiped the water from his eyes, he spots Niall.  He’s sitting on the edge of the pool, feet wadding in the water like Liam’s done countless times.  There’s a flickering smile on his lips, something like the wings of a butterfly flapping in the spring’s light.  His sun-stroked blonde hair isn’t hidden behind a snapback today and it’s fluffed in that undeniably cute way Niall doesn’t do on purpose.  Those blue eyes are vibrant, maybe a bit manic, and it draws Liam in, makes him swim closer until his hands grip the edge and he’s planting his feet on the pool’s floor.

“Louis told me you were here,” Niall says, grin still refusing to fade.

Liam nods, chews at that solemn expression threatening to swallow his entire face.  He rests his chin on his knuckles and let’s himself become weightless with feet kicking rapidly beneath the water.  They haven’t talked, not really, for a few days and it should feel so uncommon but Liam wants it that way.  He wants to avoid Niall’s cheerfulness, his energy, his carefreeness that Liam just can’t seem to adopt though he wishes he could.  It’s just easier than any of this is.

“You’re avoiding me,” Niall states, doesn’t ask.  That was Niall, the one that didn’t do well with conflict but never avoided it.  He was good at talking things out, good at making people forget that there was even the slightest reason to be upset with Niall because Niall was harmless.

“I’m avoiding a lot,” Liam mutters, eyes on the edge of the pool rather than those California blues.

“I thought about it,” Niall starts, swallowing and Liam does look up then, “I honestly don’t think I’m all that into guys.  Actually, I don’t think I fancy them at all.”

Liam nods against his knuckles, eyes dropping before he mumbles out, “Figured.”

“It’s just Louis was so set on you and I working out that I didn’t have the heart to think otherwise.  And you’re quite the lad, super fit and so nice.  If I could clone you and make you a girl, I’d be set for life,” Niall laughs out and it’s contagious, Liam knows.  He merely snorts, nods again.

“You’re pretty brill yourself Niall.  Bloody fantastic,” Liam confesses, eyes watching the way water rolls off his fingers onto the pool’s edge.

“I thought maybe being around you enough would really made me think I could do it.  I could like, no, _love_ a guy because there’s no way someone couldn’t love a chap like you,” Niall sighs and Liam feels a smirk pull at his lips, hates the irony of it all.

Niall drags his fingers through his hair, drumming smile forming on his pink lips.  “I’m pretty arse over tit about El though.”

Liam’s brow raises, head tilting to peek up at Niall.  He’s letting a smile twist over his lips when he catches that far off glimmer in Niall’s eyes.  He’s been there, knows that feeling better than he wants to and he wants to shake Niall, tell him to run now because it hurts a lot more than it feels great in the end.  He doesn’t because Niall is young, deserves that chance to fight the odds.

“Think she might be the same,” Liam confesses, feet kicking a little slower in the water.

“Really?” Niall asks instantly, eyes wide as he looks down at Liam.

Liam chuckles, nibbling lightly on his bottom lip.  “Not that she’d tell me because, well, obvious reasons.  But it’s in the way she looks at you.  It’s the way she used to look at Louis before she realized that, yeah, he’s _not_ looking at her like that.  She’s sort of into you mate.”

Niall nods and he looks like a five year old for just that second.  “She kissed me at her party.  Just a small peck because she was completely pissed on whatever drink Louis made her but all I kept thinking was, _‘Man, I’m in heaven,’_ you know?”

 _Actually I do_ , Liam thinks but he just smirks at Niall.  He wants to tell Niall how lovely all of it was and could he go away now so he can finish letting his emotions drown beneath the surface of this damn pool but there’s something else in Niall’s eyes, something so thoughtful that Liam secures his feet to the ground again and waits for.

“I think you should choose Zayn.  Well, actually, I think you did choose him a while ago but you just didn’t realize it,” Niall says sagely and Liam’s heard Louis say how wise Niall is in the oddest of moments but Liam’s honestly not ready.  “I mean, he’s a good guy.  A bit vain, maybe a little moody, but I see the way he looks at you.  How you are with him.  You’d be a right fool not to think he’d be good for you.”

Liam nods slowly, holding his mouth closed.  He thinks, sometimes, he hates people like Niall.  The ones that _get_ it even though they’re probably not supposed to, not even trying to.  The ones that are all sunshine and joy and rainbows after some freakish storm.  But Niall is like that sprinkling of cinnamon his sister sometimes adds to his tea when he’s really sick – an unexpected spiciness that turns everything that’s so ordinary into a new brilliance he’s not prepared for.

“Is this your kind way of blowing me off?” Liam wonders, coy smile dawning his lips.

Niall’s snorting, whispered blush touching his cheeks and he’s reaching down to flick water at Liam.

“El will never be as hot as me,” Liam teases, floating backward on the surface of the water and Niall’s flipping him off, wicked smile plucked over his lips.

“She’s _hotter_ mate,” Niall insists, fisting fingers through his thick blonde hair.

Liam laughs, a deep one that’s genuine and he’s certain he hasn’t felt that rumble against his belly in at least a week.  Niall’s not a horrible person and, somewhere, maybe he still wishes Niall had been everything Louis hoped he was.  They exchange smiles and Liam can’t help but feel that part of Louis was right – Niall was perfect for Liam.  The perfect friend.

**

The rain feels oddly unwanted this time of year.  Everyone wants sunshine for as many hours as possible, cursing the heavens whenever a gray cloud rolls through perfectly blue skies.  He doesn’t mind it.  Doesn’t miss the chance to dive into the pool, play an awfully uneven match of tennis with Eleanor or even have a pickup game with Louis and Harry down on the field.  He blows softly over his tea, mug held between both of his hands while his eyes watch the constant barrage of thick drops splashing on the deck of Louis’ flat.

He’s practically curled into the settee, brown duvet covering his pulled up legs, while peering out the insanely picturesque window.  The skies are thick with charcoal gray and streaks of lightning that scattered purples over the clouds.  The thunder almost outweighs the sound of the music Louis has filtering through the room from the expensive stereo system set up in the corner.  The scent of lemons and pomegranates fill his nose, eyes closing – _I’ve got blonde on blonde on my portable stereo. It’s a lullaby from a giant golden radio_ – and he exhales quietly.

“Brats are finally settled down and watching _the Breakfast Club_ ,” Louis sighs, jumping onto the couch with a relieved expression washing over his face.

Liam quirks an eyebrow upward, wonders how Louis’ sisters ever managed with a brother like Louis, taking a quick sip of his tea and it’s too hot, way too hot.  “Do you think that’s an appropriate film for them Lou?”

Louis shrugs violently, reaching forward to the glass coffee table to snatch up his Styrofoam coffee cup, uncapping it before swallowing down a fourth of its contents.  He uses the back of his hand to wipe his mouth, exhaling hard before stating, “Fuck if I care.  They’ve got to learn this shit somewhere.”

Liam waits until Louis looks on him before rolling his eyes, turning his attention back to the pelting rain.  He lets his fingers dance over the top of his head, playing along the hair that’s growing in thicker, longer there.  It’s almost long enough to pull up into a small quiff and he winces at that thought, scrubbing at the hair.  He’s incredibly at ease for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as he watches the clouds curl in the sky.

“God bless you Liam,” Louis mutters, slouching on the couch before kicking his feet up and resting them on the coffee table.  Liam looks Louis way just as he adds, “You have no idea what to do with yourself.”

Liam snorts, another slow sip.  He can taste the hint of lemon, the one Louis insisted he needed, and the taste is refreshing.  He watches the way Louis holds up his own cup in a salute before swallowing down some more of his coffee.

“This coming from the bloke who’s maddeningly in love with the enemy,” Liam retorts.

“The former enemy,” Louis points out with a knitted brow.  Liam chuckles, eyes rolling once more.

“Whatever.”

“And hopefully the soon to be permanent bedmate,” Louis chimes, tongue licking lewdly over his lips and if Liam wasn’t fearful of repercussions he’d douse Louis with his entire mug of scalding hot tea.  Who’s he kidding?  He’d never waste such good tea.

“I like you happy Lou,” Liam mutters, doesn’t want to believe the words actually pass by his own lips but he catches the way Louis’ lips spread into a sincerely soft smile and soft is a word Liam never thought he’d associate with Louis.  He sighs, snickering to himself because Louis’ quiet for only the second time Liam’s ever known, the first being after Harry had kissed him.

“You’re taking a piss at me.  Fucking wanker,” Louis jests, lips curling before he downs some more coffee.  Liam’s shaking his head, grinning and it’s kind of obnoxious the way Louis’ cheeks raise and his blue eyes flicker with specs of green, toasted on his own happiness.

“Give it time.  I could still fuck it up,” Louis warns, legs crossing at the ankles while his head tilts.

“Looking forward to it,” Liam laughs out, toasting Louis this time with his mug and he gets a welcomed middle finger in return.

“Could you be a little bit more supportive mate?  I’m quite capable of destroying my own self-esteem, thanks.  Fuck off,” Louis hisses out but that smile is still hovering over his red lips.

Liam shoots him a sincere look, wishing Louis was close enough for him to rest a reassuring hand on Louis’ knee.  He merely drops his brow and quirks his lips into a small smile.  “You’ll do just fine.  If you two haven’t murdered each other by now, there’s a chance you’ll survive a relationship.”

“A relationship.  Relationship,” Louis says slowly.  He looks as if he’s trying to piece it all together, sounding out each syllable until it fits just right.  “Is that French or something?” Louis asks and Liam’s head tips back with a laugh, hand over his chest.  Louis screws his face into an imitation pout, feathering fingers through his slicked back hair.

“You’re quite mental,” Liam announces, smile wrapping around the lip of his mug to swallow back cooler tea.  The scent still hangs and he clings to it happily.

“He’s back.”

Liam nearly spits out the tea before he swallows it, choking a little.  He thumps at his chest as Louis curls into a ball, probably waiting on Liam to hurl something at him but Liam’s too busy staring at him, wide-eyed and jaw unhinged.  There’s a grimace on Louis’ face and Liam doesn’t know how to approach it all, doesn’t even know if the _he_ Louis is referring to is Zayn until Louis’ lips part once more.

“I should’ve said something sooner, eh?”

Liam drops his shoulders, tries to siphon the tension from his body with deep breaths but, shit, it’s not working.

“Damn well should’ve,” Liam snaps, resting his mug on the coffee table before kicking off the duvet.  “How long?”

“Not even a whole day,” Louis sighs, slumping in his position, “But he sounded so rough last night that I didn’t want to press him to see anybody.”

“Right, sounds perfect because, really, I am just _anybody_ , yeah?  Or _nobody_ since he couldn’t call me not once while he was gone,” Liam bites, standing up.  He wants to kick the fucking coffee table over, wants to punch a wall because he’s been doing so good the past few days not even thinking about the fact that he was once again let down by that stupid emotion and by someone he cared for.  And, fuck it, he doesn’t feel like crying because he did that already, with Louis holding him all night when he’d had enough, couldn’t take it anymore.

“Li,” Louis starts but Liam instantly throws up a hand, head shaking violently.

“Do not do it Tommo.  Not fucking now,” Liam grumbles, dragging a hand down his face and he can feel the heat on his cheeks, knows he’s probably three shades of red.

“You can’t be _that_ guy.  I’ll be damned if _I_ let you be that guy,” Louis counters, jumping up from his position.  He rests a heavy hand on Liam’s shoulder, doesn’t let him jerk away because his fingers are tangled in the material of Liam’s shirt and he’s deceptively strong in that moment, hauling Liam back.

“Get off –“

“So you fell in love with someone else.  And it hurt before you gave it a chance to feel good.  But _you_ chose to let it get the best of you.  And _you_ decided to sit back instead of having the fucking bullocks to pick up the damn phone, tell Zayn, and be done with it,” Louis hisses, his other fingers wrapping around Liam’s forearm, pinching into his skin.

“Go fuck yourself,” Liam hisses.  He’s stopped trying to pull away, emotions tangled in their own war because part of him wants to punch Louis while the other part wants to fall apart in Louis’ arms.

“That’s what I have Harry for, thank you very much,” Louis says, grin curling over his lips shortly afterward.  Liam rolls his eyes, a grin tickling his own lips and he lets Louis circle his arms around Liam’s waist, pull him in.

“One of these days Lou –“

“Yes, yes, you’re going to drown me or throw my body in a ditch.  I look forward to it.  I already have a sharp suit picked out and, no, Zayn is _not_ going to be the one to give the eulogy,” Louis teases, head resting on Liam’s chest and Liam has no choice but to fit his arms around Louis, holding him close.  He sighs into Louis’ hair, doesn’t give two shits this time when tears prick at his eyes because Louis’ mumbling soft things into his chest that sound a lot like _“I love you,” “you’ll be fine,” “we can cut off all of his hair if he doesn’t like you like you like him”_ and it’s just enough.

“I’ve ruined you Payne,” Louis says, head ducking and he’s still clinging to Liam’s shirt.

Liam chuckles lowly, nods.  “Not completely your fault.”

“And I was wrong.  Sod it all, I am not a brilliant matchmaker.”

“You tried,” Liam sighs out, nuzzling his nose to Louis’ head.  “Harry’s going to love this though.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Louis teases.  Liam agrees silently with a smirk.

“Guess I’ll have to call him up for a chat,” Liam whispers, uses the back of his hand to scrub away stray tears.

“Or you could go to his flat, where he just happens to be.  Not that I have any deets on this whole situation,” Louis says innocently, pulling back.  His thumb scoops up a tear before it touches Liam’s top lip and Liam laughs lowly.

“You’re quite the bastard, you know,” Liam says with a breathy laugh, keeps from closing his eyes because he doesn’t want the rest of the tears to escape.

“Oh please, you love me.  I’m wickedly funny, absolutely relevant to your life, and I’m the best teammate you’ve ever had while playing FIFA,” Louis declares and Liam doesn’t have the heart to tell Louis that _Niall_ is actually much better than him at the game because half of what Louis said is true.

The rain has let up but he stays bundled under the hood of his orange JW hoodie.  He pulls at the thick white strings, staring at the door to the brick building before him.  He’d managed to walk all the way from Louis’ flat to Zayn’s building and he’s been standing outside for at least twenty minutes.

He’s made quite the valiant effort to not go inside and face Zayn.  Courage seemed like such a fleeting concept halfway through his walk and he thought it’d be best to just let the whole situation ago, but he’s still here.  He’s still standing somewhere between reality and his fucked up perception of it.

Louis has text him no less than three times but he’s not answering.  He’s not even considering reading the third message after the second one consisted of meaningless words of encouragement and ramblings about Harry’s cock because, somewhere in Louis’ fucked up world, Harry’s cock was inspiring.  He shuffles foot to foot, dipping the toe of his shoe into a shallow puddle and he’s taking in deep breaths, hand reaching for the door but always pulling back like he has some fear of being shocked.

 _Brilliant idea Payne to just give up_ , he thinks and that’s when he finally does push at the door.  It’s opening with little effort but that’s probably because somebody else is already pulling it open; somebody else like Zayn.  Liam stumbles back a bit, catches his balance as Zayn raises his brow, takes slow steps out of the building until they’re both standing under the rolling gray skies.

Zayn lifts a cigarette to his lips, lets it dangle before lighting it.  “How long you plan on standing out here?”

Liam blinks at him, takes him in. “How long do you plan on being home and not saying anything?” he asks.

Zayn snorts, nods before taking a slow drag.  The smoke curls around him instantly, clings to him like a lifeline as he flicks away some of the ashes.  He’s got on a denim jacket, faded Union Jack t-shirt beneath.  There’s a bright blonde section of hair running painfully sharp through that dark hair now but it makes his features sharper, his eyebrows set.  There’s a lot more scruff along his jaw, over his top lip and under his chin.  There’s a richer gold to his complexion and he looks a little thinner but everything is still in place.

“Louis called me.  Was worried about you,” Zayn says flatly, rubbing at his bottom lip with his index and middle fingers.  He curls his lips around the end of his cigarette, inhales more and Liam hates how he can’t pick out every color in Zayn’s eyes in this light.  He possibly hates Zayn even more in this instance.

“I was worried about you,” Liam confesses, tries to stop all the words before they come out but can’t.

Zayn’s lips quirk, teeth biting down on his bottom lip before he’s looking away.  “I’m fine.”

“Obviously,” Liam hisses, balled fists shoving into the pockets on the front of his hoodie.  A large chunk of him wants it to end at that, turn on his heels and stomp all the way back home.

“I thought about you the whole time,” Zayn mentions, squinted eyes looking at Liam again.

Liam snorts, shoots him a look of disbelief.  Sounds great coming from velvet lips but Liam’s done letting words mean everything.

“The fuck you did,” Liam sneers, curled upper lip and he’s daring to offer Zayn the same gives-a-fuck grin Zayn had mastered so well.

“When did your mouth become so filthy?” Zayn wonders, sly smile.  “I rather like it.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Liam shoots back, his tone thickened with anger.

Zayn sighs, turns a little to look up and out to the sky.  When he takes another drag, he lets the smoke slide slowly from his nose, too cool to do anything but marinate in the clouds.

“I couldn’t do it Liam.  Whenever I called Louis, asked to talk to you, I would start to cry and hang up before he ever had the chance to put you on the phone.  It was too much, losing him, even though I knew it was coming.  Shit, I knew it was coming for over a year because he was so sick but I didn’t know you’d come along,” Zayn admits, head still tilted back to look upward.

Liam inches forward a little, wonders if maybe the reason Zayn won’t look down is because there seems to be tears lining his lids, threatening to spill.  It slices right down Liam’s chest and, fuck, he’s trying to be furious because emotions will not get the best of him.  _Zayn_ will not get the best of him.

“Her name was Danielle,” Liam finally says and Zayn’s dropping his head down, looking at Liam curiously.  Liam shrugs, dragging a thumb under Zayn’s eyes until he can smudge away the building tears.

“Who?”

Liam chuckles, pressing his thumb over Zayn’s cheek and he’s missed that soft skin.  “My last girlfriend.  The last person I let in my heart before I decided that I wasn’t going to bother with that stupid emotion anymore.  It drove me mad, losing her, and I told Louis I wouldn’t do it anymore.”

Zayn’s blinking, small tears receding while he nibbles on his lower lip.  He lifts his hand, takes another puff before Liam snatches it from between his fingers and flicks it away.  Zayn doesn’t flinch, rolls the last few clouds of smoke from his curled lips.

“We broke up a few times.  She’s a dancer, I’m a good guy.  Wasn’t really the ideal match.  Couldn’t really fit her into my schedule when I first started University and she hated it.  Second go ‘round she cheated on me with some bloke at her dance school where she taught.  He was one of her students and she claimed it was a mistake,” Liam says, sliding a hand down Zayn’s jacket, picking at the fabric to distract himself.  He hasn’t even told Louis most of this but something about Zayn lets him free all of the parts of him he’s done so well to hide.

“I believed her; honestly did.  Third time we tried like hell.  _I_ tried like hell.  But nothing felt honest anymore.  None of it felt like the first time.  She knew it.  She let me go, said it was for the best and I let it happen,” Liam explains, chin dropping.  How could something so freeing burn so hotly against his chest?

Liam barely notices Zayn’s hand drifting over his arm, careful fingers running the length of his hoodie, slipping under his arm to caress his side and then continue upward.  He feels it when that hand reaches his shoulder, tugs him a little closer, and then the hand is sweeping back downward, rollercoaster effect when it reaches Liam’s hand.  Fingers dip into every space between his knuckles, trace over the skin and fit themselves over Liam’s before sliding between them.

“Perrie,” Zayn whispers and Liam’s noticing that Zayn’s face is closer too, nose pressed to Liam’s cheek.  His other hand is swiping at Liam’s cheeks and, bloody hell, when did tears find their own destination down his cheeks.

Liam makes a humming noise, head nodding as he takes in a shuddering breath.  He lets Zayn rub at his chin with a thumb, doesn’t fight his own body when it permits his head to nuzzle to Zayn’s.  Ache be damned, these warm touches cool everything burning inside.

“A few months back when I just didn’t want to be single.  I had to have someone around and she was it.  Didn’t love her, told her I did though,” Zayn admits, his voice smooth against Liam’s earlobe.  He closes his eyes, chewing stiffly on his lip as Zayn’s fingers dance over his neck, pinky tracing his birthmark absentmindedly.

“What happened?” Liam asks.

“Cheated on her,” Zayn sighs out, head dropping and Liam only knows that because he feels it.  Feels Zayn pull away a little but he holds onto Zayn’s hand, reaches behind Zayn to curl his arm around Zayn’s waist.

“Why?”

“To get her out of my head.  To get it all out of my head.  The way I knew I was hurting her, hurting myself.  This need to be with a woman because, fuck it all, my damn parents want me to have children someday and raise them to be great like they did with us,” Zayn hisses out and Liam feels the tension riding on Zayn’s words, “Cause being with Perrie was like being alone and I didn’t know how to say that.”

Liam nods, bats his eyes open and turns his head a little until his lips are so close to Zayn’s cheek.  He licks at his lips, watches Zayn’s own eyes shut and he’s whispering against Zayn’s skin “That must’ve killed you.”

“Gutted.  I was ashamed,” Zayn says with a nod, tipping his head back and opening his eyes again.

Liam lets them sit in silence for a while, hands dancing over each other in slow motion.  He’s fingering the blonde streak, grins when Zayn explains it was Doniya and Waliyha’s idea and he even let Doniya do it.  He doesn’t say he hates it, finds himself fancying it quicker than he thought.  Zayn pulls back Liam’s hoodie, smirks at Liam’s longer hair and Liam blushes before explaining he needed a small change.  Zayn kisses his temple and doesn’t say much else about it.  The tips of Zayn’s fingers trace over his skin, find each mole and he whispers about loving every little piece of Liam, even the ones he has yet seen.  Liam’s feverish then, ducking his head.

“The whole thing with Niall is over?” Zayn asks, tepid smile dancing over his lips as his finger plays along Liam’s lips, tracing their thickness with keen interest.

Liam lets a thunderous laugh out and Zayn’s grinning up at him, laughing too.

“It’s a shame Louis got it wrong.  Harry’s never going to let him live it down,” Liam notes, loving the way Zayn’s eyes crinkle when he laughs, tongue pressing obnoxiously against his teeth when he smiles wide.

“Are you going to have him plan out our first date as well?” Zayn wonders, inching up until he’s giggling into the crook of Liam’s neck.

Liam’s brow lifts, lips twisting sideways.  He slips his hand to the small of Zayn’s back, pressing down a little until Zayn’s lifting his head and looking at Liam, his face going a bit blank while Liam looks on him seriously.

“Do you want that?” Liam asks and he catches the way Zayn tries to process it all, feels silly before he quickly adds, “Not the Louis thing.  Fuck, _not_ the Louis thing.  The ‘us’ thing, you and I?  Dating.  Giving it a try?”

Zayn snorts this time, sliding an arm around Liam’s shoulders and dragging him impossibly closer.  He’s grinning solidly against Liam’s cheek this time, saying, “I thought you’d never ask.”

Thunder rumbles above or maybe it’s Liam’s heart in his ears but he doesn’t care too much.  He turns his head quickly, closes the distance without thinking because if he puts too much more thought into any of this, he won’t make it.  He’ll be buried beneath his emotions and life will suck even more than it already has.

He’s at an angle when he fits his mouth against Zayn’s, lips already parted and he’s kissing at Zayn roughly because he missed this too much.  Missed the chapped surface, the way those lips were still incredibly soft and raw.  He missed the scent of Zayn, the way he can breathe it in all while dragging calculated fingers through Zayn’s thick hair.  He likes the newness of the stubble rubbing against his own skin, impossibly rough and bruising.  His tongue is slipping over Zayn’s lips and it’s the moan Zayn lets loose that allows Liam entrance, Zayn’s fingers digging sharply into the fabric of his hoodie, jerking him forward.

It feels amazing, especially when those first few drops splatter against the top of his head.  He doesn’t care.  Zayn’s mouth is so warm, his body smaller but not by much and it’s strong underneath Liam’s touch.  Zayn’s trying to get more, mumbling and biting at Liam’s bottom lip but Liam fights for control.  He slides a hand behind Zayn’s head, holds him there while he learns every taste that comes along with Zayn’s lips.  Loves the sweetness, the tang of nicotine and the way he can still taste the mint even though Zayn wasn’t chewing gum.  He likes to bat his eyes open occasionally, see the way those lashes are curled against Zayn’s cheeks and the way he’s breathing heavy but trying to look so damn cool.

The rain soaks them and Zayn’s quiff falls just that quickly.  He pulls Liam’s hood up, giggles against his lips, something about “getting inside” but Liam won’t let up.  He swallows all of Zayn’s last words, fingers fisted in Zayn’s hair as he kisses him silent.  Everything is a bit hazy and he likes it that way, unable to control any of his thoughts as Zayn’s hand pets at his cheek, pleading for a little more.  He kisses Zayn until his lips are swollen and he’s shivering, fearful that if he lets Zayn go this time he won’t be back.  He won’t be back soon enough.

**

“Why are we _here?_ ” Zayn whines.

Liam grins, head shaking as he drags Zayn into the pool area.  The sky is draped in pretty blues and purples, stars trying to peek out between the darkness but the pool is lit up with cheap lights on the inside that Liam’s certain Louis’ parents thought were fabulously grand but truly unnecessary if the pool closes every night before they even have a chance to cut them on for guests to see.

“Because,” Liam replies and leaves it at that.  His got his fingers curled around Zayn’s wrist with a football tucked under his other arm.  The air is the right side of cooled warmth and he smiles as the water forms little waves whenever the wind shifts.

Liam leads Zayn over to the lounge chairs, grinning playfully at Zayn before flicking the football into the water and toeing off his shoes.  He watches Zayn’s eyebrow lift but ignores it in favor of unbuttoning his plaid shirt.

“What are you doing?” Zayn asks, flopping down onto one of the chairs.

“Well, I sorted out that for our first date we’d do two things that you love,” Liam replies, sarcasm heavy as he fumbles with the last button.  He glances over his shoulder, shirt dropping away and blush prickles all over his skin when Zayn looks at him like that.  He fumbles with a smile, embarrassed because Zayn won’t stop glaring, not even when he says, “Swimming and football.”

Zayn leans back hard, eyes narrowing at Liam.  “You’re fucking mad.”

“Come on,” Liam pleas, turns around and he’s already toying with the button of his jeans.  “I wanted to do something different.”

“Jumping off a cliff is different,” Zayn says flatly, chewing on the inside of his mouth.  “Dangerous, but different.”

Liam sighs, fingers on his zipper.  He stops, drags a hand over the thick hair at the top of his head before replying, “It’s not too late for me to call Lou and have him plan something out for us.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, gives in just that easily as he sits up.  “Fine.”

Liam lets a smile tickle his lips, finally lowering his zipper and shaking out of his jeans.  Zayn’s a bit wide-eyed, lips inching sideways across his face and Liam rubs a nervous hand along the back of his neck.

“We’re swimming in our underwear?” Zayn questions lowly, brow raising again.

Liam nods happily, hands on his hips and he does look a bit foolish standing in just his boxers while Zayn sat fully clothed but it felt like a brilliant plan originally.

Zayn glares at him once more, eyes peering because he doesn’t trust Liam completely but then Liam’s pressing his face into a frown, puppy dog eyes that Zayn finds hard to resist and it starts from there when Zayn jerks and stands, bending down to untie his shoes before kicking them off.

“Fucking mental boyfriend with the fit body,” Zayn grumbles and Liam finds the sting of blush run over him again at the mention of _‘boyfriend,’_ a concept he’d considered but never thought that just maybe Zayn had thought about it too.  He turns away before Zayn can look at him, diving into the cool water and fetching the ball.

“If I drown, Liam, I swear –“

“You won’t,” Liam insists and it feels so incredibly déjà vu for a minute.  He’s reaching a hand out, trying to encourage Zayn but Zayn has his arms folded over his bare chest and he’s refusing to move.

“Why swimming?” Zayn finally asks and it’s the first time Liam catches the sadness in Zayn’s eyes, the way a frown keeps plucking at his pink lips.

“Because we were both scared to like someone else, let ourselves get too close but we did.  And I was afraid I took too long to sort out my feelings for you, but you stuck around,” Liam starts, treading water until he’s closer to the edge.  He looks up at Zayn, painfully sincere glint in his eyes before he adds, “And you’re scared of the water but I won’t leave you.  I won’t let anything happen to you.  I want you to know that.”

Zayn sighs quietly, fumbling with the buttons of his jeans.  “I can know that _outside_ of the pool too.”

Liam snorts, chewing on his bottom lip as Zayn shimmies out of his jeans.  “What fun would that be?”

“Loads,” Zayn confirms, arms waving.

Liam floats backward, looks on Zayn with amazement.  He’s beautiful and Liam knows he shouldn’t think so because, honestly, guys were _not_ beautiful but Zayn is in a way that Liam can’t describe.  Tight black jersey shorts hugging Zayn’s lower half and the tattoos are everywhere, including a new addition on Zayn’s chest that Louis tells him about – “It’s his grandfather’s name in Arabic or something like that.  I can’t keep up with that whack job’s crazy artwork when I’ve got a sex machine of my own to worry about.”  His skin is almost a shade lighter than saffron and he knows when Zayn drops into the pool that that quiff is going to fall and stick to his forehead but he takes in a moment to look anyway.

Zayn chews on his bottom lip nervously, glaring at the water like he wants to set it on fire and pray it all evaporates.  He casually takes of the black-rimmed glasses he’s been wearing because Liam did drag him out of his flat while he was reading and he’s Clark Kent no more.  He rubs a hand up his arm, over his shoulder and the hesitance is throbbing from him now.

“I’ve got you,” Liam says assuredly and Zayn’s nodding, believing him.

Zayn clings to the side of the pool before he drops down into it, water splashing high, howling out “Whoa!  It’s _cold_.”

Liam chuckles, pushing the ball aside to swim quickly over to Zayn before he panics.  He pulls Zayn in close, arms huddled around Zayn with Zayn’s chest to his back.  He laughs into Zayn’s ear and Zayn’s all flailing limbs for a moment before he calms underneath Liam’s touch.  Liam leans back, floats them backward for a few seconds and it’s a bit of a struggle but he manages to get them to the middle of the pool.

“Don’t let me go,” Zayn begs and Liam can see the fear in his face when he leans in close enough.  He nods, presses a kiss to the back of Zayn’s shoulder and wades in the water with Zayn in his arms.

They, well more _Liam_ than both of them, manage to get to the shallow end of the pool and Zayn’s less panicked by then.  He’s wiping water from his face, hair sunken and fringed over his forehead, strips of blonde blended into the black.  Liam swims away, scoops up the ball before tossing it to Zayn.  Zayn dodges it, fear-stricken, and Liam barks out a laugh.

“Sports and water?  You’re awful at this date thing,” Zayn comments as Liam swims out to grab the ball again.

“Humor me, okay?” Liam requests, tossing the ball in the air again.  It slaps the water to the left of Zayn, splashing and Zayn frowns at it.

“You’re not a very good comedian.”

Liam rolls his eyes, dipping beneath the water to swim to Zayn.  He toys with Zayn’s legs, making the older boy stumble and almost fall under but Liam’s breaking the surface, letting Zayn cling to him for support.  He giggles as Zayn tries not to freak out, pulling his fingers through Zayn’s hair until it’s brushed back, James Dean-like.

“C’mere,” Liam requests, slinking arms around Zayn’s waist and Zayn’s struggling to walk in the water but Liam manages to help enough until Zayn can wrap his own wiry arms around Liam’s neck.  Liam waits until Zayn’s legs lift and wrap around his waist and it’s a comfortable weight in his arms.

Liam carries Zayn through the water, keeping his eyes on Zayn’s because he knows it calms Zayn, watches the way amber makes short appearances in those brown eyes as they spin around the pool.  Zayn’s gnawing at his bottom lip mercilessly and Liam wrestles with a grin, tries to remain serious for Zayn’s own comfort but it doesn’t last.  He snorts when Zayn frowns, waits until Zayn laughs with him and they shift from the shallow end to deeper parts without Zayn noticing.

“Babe,” Zayn whispers and Liam’s cheeks catch fire with blush, peeking up through his lashes to look at Zayn.  “You’re not complete shit when it comes to this date thing.”

“You think?” Liam asks and it’s genuine, not flavored in that usual dry sarcasm he’s picked up from Louis.

Zayn nods, still biting at a section of his lower lip but Liam can see the smile there.  And Zayn’s combing fingers through Liam’s hair, resting his entire weight on Liam and Liam only struggles for a moment when he tries to float backwards with Zayn in his arms.

They talk for a while, sloshing through the water as the warm air turns a little colder above them.  Zayn goes on about his sisters, about Safaa hounding his mum for hours to talk about Uncle Louis and how fabulous, Safaa’s word not Zayn’s, Liam is and even manages to let it slip that Waliyha has a major crush on Harry which earns her a shove from Waliyha.  Liam talks about the Harry-Louis lovefest or, as Eleanor calls it, _the Day the World Flipped Upside the Fuck Down_.  Zayn snickers the whole time, wishes he was there for it all.  Zayn teases him about Niall, does his best to imitate Niall’s accent but it’s just not as good as the imitation Niall does of Zayn.  Zayn offers to cook for their next date and Liam’s pulling faces, standing with Waliyha’s earlier statement that Zayn’s probably “shit in the kitchen” and Zayn’s tugging roughly on his hair until Liam’s dropping them both into the water, emerging with Zayn clinging to him and gasping for air.  Liam merely smiles at him and hugs him tightly as Zayn coughs up water.

Liam floats them toward the edge, crowds Zayn against it until his back is arching against the hard surface.  He’s grinning down at Zayn, thumb rubbing impatiently at Zayn’s bottom lip as Zayn tries to find his footing in the pool.  He inclines, waits until Zayn slicks his tongue over his lips and shuts his eyes before pressing his lips to Zayn’s.

The kiss is much gentler than the first few times.  It’s slow, dripping like sticky honey, and Liam’s incredibly soft with his touch.  He moans when Zayn’s hand grows possessive on the side of his face, small nails digging into the skin when Liam opens his mouth and allows Zayn’s tongue to slip in.  He tastes like caramel this time, something sweet Zayn had earlier but there’s still that hint of cigarette and something fruit-like.

He can feel Zayn’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips when his hand presses to Zayn’s chest, keeps him constrained against the wall.  His concentration is shattered when Zayn slips a leg between Liam’s, lifting it to rub his thigh against Liam’s crotch and these damn plaid boxers are doing nothing because his erection slips right out and Zayn’s muffled moan against Liam’s lips makes him push at Zayn’s shoulder, bite gently on Zayn’s bottom lip.

“Fuck,” Zayn gasps and Liam’s slipping his hands beneath Zayn’s armpits, hauling him up until Zayn wraps his legs and arms around Liam, panting when Liam secures his lips to Zayn’s neck.

“God, you,” Liam breathes against Zayn’s skin, teeth scraping down Zayn’s neck until they leave small red marks, Liam’s lips and tongue kissing away the pain.

“Wanted you so bad,” Zayn moans, fingers inching over Liam’s neck, over the prickly hairs on the side of his head until they can dig into the hair at the top.

Liam hums, dropping Zayn some so he can line their lips up and he’s kissing Zayn lazily, letting Zayn drop a hand between them to run over Liam’s chest, down to his clenched abs.  He doesn’t mind when Zayn nuzzles his head out of the way to suck a pretty mark onto the side of his neck.  He feels a moan deep in his chest, pinches at Zayn’s sides because, yeah, someone’s going to notice that mark no matter what he wears.  He can feel Zayn’s cock against his stomach, throbbing in those tight jersey boxers and if all of his strength wasn’t forced into holding Zayn up, he’d be fisting a hand into that material and jerking Zayn off until warmth spread over his hand underneath the water.

“You’re shivering,” Liam remarks, fingers gripping Zayn’s jaw and forcing him to look at Liam.

Zayn’s shaking his head, pressing his forehead to Liam’s.  He’s panting, heavy, and the sight alone makes Liam want him more.  Zayn’s licking his tongue out, wetting bruised lips before he’s gasping, “It’s you.  Fuck, I’m so turned on.”

Liam chuckles deep, inching forward to press a quiet kiss to Zayn’s lips before whispering, “No.  It’s too cool out here.  Shower and then back to my flat, yeah?”

Zayn groans, eyes rolling but Liam pinches at his chin again until he’s grumbling and nodding.  “Fine.”

“You’re ridiculous babe,” Liam laughs out, easing Zayn down until he’s standing.

“You’re insufferable,” Zayn counters, shoving Liam back.  There’s a pout slipping over his lips but Liam’s ignoring it.

Liam fits his fingers between Zayn’s, gripping his hand tightly as he climbs out of the water, dragging Zayn with him.  He leaves their clothes scattered on the ground, laughing as he jerks Zayn in the direction of the locker rooms.  Zayn’s giggling with him, slapping Liam’s ass a few times and that earns him a scowl from Liam but it softens quickly when Zayn sticks out his tongue.  Liam lets Zayn push him aside to run into the lockers, almost slipping and sliding on wet feet once they hit the tiles of the showers.

Liam thinks if Louis’ parents got anything right at the rec center, it’s the showers.  Not that the pool isn’t perfect when it’s hot enough or the turf on the tennis courts, but there was something about the showers that Liam craved unremittingly.  The water is impossibly hot and it stays that way for a long time unlike the shower back at Liam’s flat.  The showerheads dredge the skin in that scalding warmth, just the right pressure where everything tingles and goose bumps spread everywhere.

Zayn’s underneath the spray first but it isn’t long before Liam’s joining him, sidling up behind Zayn with arms coiling around Zayn’s midsection and Zayn lets out a quiet gasp like he’s ashamed of how good it feels with Liam covering so much of him.  Zayn’s pulls his fingers through his hair, slicking it back again and Liam’s got his lips delicately pressing shapes and kisses over the side of Zayn’s neck.  He watches Zayn’s eyes slip shut, submitting, and Liam slides a hand over Zayn’s smooth stomach while his other lets fingers tangle into the back of Zayn’s hair, jerk his head sideways to give him more skin to trace with his tongue.

“Li,” Zayn coos quietly, biting on his lip because he’s trying so hard not to be the one to give in.  But Liam crowds into his space more, makes sure to press his crotch to Zayn’s backside so Zayn knows exactly what he does to Liam.  What he’s done for so long now Liam’s surprised he hasn’t begged Zayn to drop to his knees and suck him off a million times in public.

Liam kisses along the fantail tattoo inked so artistically along the back of Zayn’s neck, dipping just between those shoulder blades.  Zayn’s got a hand covering the one Liam has on his stomach, easing it down to Zayn’s hip.  Liam’s lips slip to the side, over the tendon between Zayn’s neck and shoulder before he’s practically climbing Zayn’s back to kiss at the _‘Friday?’_ tattoo on his collarbone, flicking a tongue over the skull to the side of it.

“Want more,” Liam gasps and Zayn rolling his hips backward isn’t helping.  Maybe he should thank Harry for those awful dance lessons?  He knows he should force Zayn out of the shower, finish rinsing off the chlorine and speeding them back to Liam’s flat to do this proper on his bed but it just doesn’t happen.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” Zayn whispers and Liam almost doesn’t hear him over the pounding of the shower water but Zayn’s turning in his arms, thumbs already hooked into the waistband of his tight underwear.  He’s blinking water out of his eyes, impossibly long lashes framing dark eyes and Liam’s getting it all at once.

“You’re certain Zayn?” he asks, running a thumb over Zayn’s collarbone and he’s finding it so difficult to look directly into Zayn’s eyes.

“It’s not exactly the most brilliant suggestion,” Zayn utters and Liam’s nodding.

“Not the most sanitized either,” Liam teases but his fingers are replacing Zayn’s in the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down slowly.

“Not completely safe,” Zayn moans, kicking out of his boxers.  It’s all starting to just become words as the water does a slow dance down Zayn’s chest, over his stomach, even _lower_.

Liam nods again, yanking down his own boxers and he’s flinging them somewhere.  It’s not his wisest move because he knows he’ll need them later but standing there with Zayn, naked, the hot water burning his skin but not in the ways Zayn’s fingertips do, collapses any sane thinking he might’ve developed over the years.

“I trust you,” Zayn whispers, hand soft along Liam’s cheek and it sounds so clichéd.  It’s said all the time, not exactly the most convenient excuse to do what he knows they’re bound to do but it’s enough because he can see it in Zayn’s eyes; he trusts Liam entirely.

Liam bites along his lower lip, smoothly moving his own hand against Zayn’s cheek before dipping forward to press a soft kiss to Zayn’s lips.  The scruff is almost completely gone when Liam works a hand over Zayn’s jaw, lips fumbling with Zayn’s because the excitement has them too high to do this right.  But Zayn settles him, expert lips moving like something out of the movies and Liam breathes deep into the kiss, a thumb rubbing comfortingly over that small dip in Zayn’s back.  Zayn’s nodding into the kiss, tongue swiping, and Liam’s let the heat pound over his skin as he traces Zayn’s throat with his fingers, backing him into the shower wall.

Zayn’s hands are scrambling along the tile against the wall some time later.  They’re too wet, slippery and Liam has to kiss softly along the back of Zayn’s neck to calm him this time.  He has to pull in closer to Zayn, holding him with one arm while his other hand lifts and he’s sucking lewdly on his fingers, coating them in saliva.  Zayn’s trying to peek over his shoulder, groaning loudly and the sound just bounces off the walls before Zayn’s smacking a hand against tile.

“I can suck you first,” Liam whispers right up against Zayn’s ear, hand lowered and his swirling fingers over Zayn’s entrance.

“Later,” Zayn gasps, unintentionally pushing back and Liam grins against Zayn’s earlobe.  “ _Much_ later.  Right now, shit, right now I need you to fuck me.”

Liam chuckles, gently presses his index finger against Zayn’s hole and it takes a few minutes before it can slide in, Zayn’s breath hitching immediately with a slow, smooth “shit” crossing over his swollen lips.

“Dirty mouth,” Liam says quietly, pulling out before slipping his finger back inside, twining his fingers with Zayn’s to keep him from completely freaking out.

“Shut the fuck up,” Zayn growls, eyes clenching shut and Zayn’s heat is wrapped tightly around his finger.

“Kinda like it,” Liam mutters, lips folding over Zayn’s shoulder and he’s slipping a second finger in before Zayn fully gets used to the first one.  He feels the shiver ripple down Zayn’s spine, pulls Zayn back and onto his fingers, comforting kisses drifting along Zayn’s jawline.  Its crumbling thunder like a good rock song and Liam leads both of their hands downward until they brush over Zayn’s crotch, Liam separating their hands to stroke Zayn’s half-hard cock.

“Mmm,” Zayn hums, bites down hard on his bottom lip and Liam licks at his cheek.  He waits until Zayn pushes back against his fingers, tries to work himself onto them before he’s slipping them in and out rapidly.  One of Zayn’s legs is shaking and his head tipped back against Liam’s shoulder, heaving breaths.

“Zayn, should I –“

“Don’t ask,” Zayn pleads, eyes finally blinking open and his mouth won’t close, constantly releasing some sound that turns Liam on even more.  Zayn swallows thickly, turns his head a little to give Liam a look before gasping, “You won’t hurt me, Li.  You’ve got me, remember?”

Liam nods, eyes bright.  “I do.  I’ve got you.”

“I know,” Zayn whispers, slumping forward some and his hand swats Liam’s out of the way, grips his cock to pull on the foreskin and stroke the head.  Liam thinks he could watch that sight alone for hours, Zayn stroking himself slow and lazily but Zayn’s whining, trying to screw himself onto Liam’s fingers.  Another night he’d show Zayn how much he wants to worship, on his knees until they’re raw when Zayn pushing his cock at the back of Liam’s throat.

Right, Liam thinks, gives Zayn a few more thrusts, twists his fingers just slightly and he nudges something that has Zayn bucking and shivering out a groan.  He steadies Zayn with his other hand, grips his hip before repeating his action, watching clear liquid drip from Zayn’s cock as he strokes it over and over.

“Okay, sto-stop,” Zayn demands, releases his cock because it’s too much but Liam makes a note to find out what exactly that could do to Zayn one night when they get this opportunity again.  And he smiles, big and goofily because, deep down, he knows they’ll definitely get this chance again.

It takes him a few minutes before he finally decides to slide into Zayn.  There’s a mild hesitance; he could so easily stop this, take Zayn back to his flat, shove him onto his crumpled sheets, slip on a condom and ease into Zayn.  But then Zayn’s keening, silently asking for it.  It comes out angered because Zayn doesn’t want to say it aloud, doesn’t want to look desperate because he’s too fucking cool for that but Liam grins, strokes a hand down Zayn’s back to calm him and he’s lined up, stroking the head of his cock over the hole a few times.  He pulls his foreskin back, feels his cock throb and ache in his palm before he does it, eases it in with some resistance from Zayn until it’s thumping against his ears like that damn song Louis danced to for hours that one time he managed to get Liam into a club – _Move while you’re watching me, dance with the enemy. I’ve got a remedy._

Liam’s lips are slick from the water, chasing away the pain scrunching Zayn’s face.  He’s cool against Zayn’s warm cheek, soft right along his temple, and when Zayn fights him when he swoops in for a kiss, he resigns to kiss the corner of Zayn’s mouth and lets Zayn soak it all in on his own pace.  He covers Zayn with his arms, pulls him in tight until Zayn’s exhaling, holding his breath for too long to adjust, and his eyes are fluttering open.  He’s gnawing on his bottom lip, not in that painfully scared way but that thoughtful way and there’s a flickering innocence dancing through hazel eyes that Liam would make a safe bet he’s going to want to see every time they do this.

“It’s okay,” Zayn says with a swallow, shivering when Liam sinks all the way in and only wincing a little before he pants out, “I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Liam whispers back and that’s when he drags himself out slowly, not fully, sinking back in until he hits bottom.  It draws out a groan from Zayn, far too low but it’s committed and Liam grins with it.  He bows his head, smiles against Zayn’s shoulder when he feels Zayn’s lips quirk up against his temple.

“I’m not a piece of glass Li,” Zayn mumbles, back arching in just the slightest to push back and meet Liam as Liam sinks forward.  “I can take it.”

Liam laughs this time, tickling Zayn’s skin as he bites gently on Zayn’s shoulder.  His next thrust is a little rougher and that tightness circling his cock is better than any session he’s ever had between his cock and his palm.

He slips a foot between Zayn’s legs, kicks them apart and it’s easier this way, screwing into Zayn with quicker strokes.  Zayn’s reaching back, a hand stroking Liam’s head while he picks up speed, pounding into Zayn for a few minutes, grinning at the thick sounds of skin meeting skin.  Liam drags himself out a little slower, accidentally dips out all of the way and he hates the way Zayn hisses when he slides back in, peppers kisses all over his skin until Zayn is reassuring him again.

He’s slow for a while, maybe too slow because Zayn’s cursing lowly and smacking his thigh but he loves the pull Zayn’s muscles have on his dick.  He loves the way Zayn does turn this time when he swoops forward, tangles their lips into a sloppy kiss that’s completely off but they’re smiling into it like its perfect.

Zayn pushes back a few times, seeks out that friction and Liam attempts to let him have control.  Zayn’s fingers are digging into his hip, pulling him forward while he rakes teeth down the back of Zayn’s neck.  He skates a hand down Zayn’s stomach, thick dark hair surrounding Zayn’s cock and he’s playing with the peeled back foreskin for a beat or two while Zayn grinds back onto him.  He doesn’t expect Zayn to be this hard, the thick tanned flesh jumping against Liam’s slick palm but he loves knowing he’s doing this to Zayn.  He’s making Zayn breathless and hard and angry because he doesn’t want to admit he loves it but, beneath the armor, Liam does know that Zayn does love it.

“Liam,” Zayn whines, shivers and Liam’s scrambling to hold him, wraps his arms around Zayn’s chest while he stays deep, short jabs into Zayn until he’s shaking for another reason.

“It’s okay Zayn,” Liam says quietly and maybe Zayn doesn’t know how to say it.  Maybe Liam needs to teach him, strip away that fear.  Maybe Liam has to hold him tight and remind Zayn he’s not going anywhere, he’s not breaking this bond.

“Just a little more,” Zayn exhales out, turning his head and their eyes hold for a long time.  When Liam nudges that spot inside of Zayn, his eyes roll back a little but then they’re right back on Liam’s, mouth agape with no words coming out, just steady, deep breathing.

It takes Liam a minute to realize that other sound, the one besides his body slamming against Zayn’s, is the sound of Zayn jerking himself off quickly and with little technique.  He inches forward, quiet kiss to Zayn’s lips and Zayn won’t close his eyes, won’t take them off of Liam even though Liam lets his slip shut.  Liam bets that if they were in a different position, Zayn would curl around Liam, hand still stroking amazingly quick, and bury himself inside of Liam’s arms.

“Faster, Li, faster,” Zayn huffs out and Liam obliges, feeling the coils snap low in his stomach.  His legs shake, ache in a way he hasn’t known for so long but he doesn’t stop.

Zayn’s hair is pulled in different directions, mainly Liam’s fault, and his cheeks are completely flushed now.  Liam’s sliding his hands onto the inside of Zayn’s thighs, grabbing on for better leverage and Zayn’s slumping over, letting Liam rest most of his weight on him as he slams into Zayn.  It’s tingling, eradicating heat, and he’s probably suffocating on his own moans.  But he’s not like Zayn, he doesn’t hold any of them in.  They’re deep, loud, and if anyone walked in, he probably wouldn’t stop.

“Oh Liam, Liam, _Liam_ ,” Zayn moans, his name rolling on Zayn’s tongue and the last one is dragged out like he’s heard before: _Lee-yum_.  It’s quite delicious and Liam grabs onto Zayn’s hair, a little pull to drag him up.  He wants to see, _needs_ to see.

“Shit,” Zayn hisses, back arching and he’s nearly slipping off of Liam’s cock but Liam’s steady, sliding in deep and letting Zayn’s pulsing body pull on his cock as he watches Zayn come, splattering the floor with that built up ecstasy.  It washes away with the shower water but Zayn’s cock drips, head thrown back against Liam’s shoulder as he pants.

“Amazing,” Liam whispers, rolling his hips to keep the friction alive.  He pushes the hair off of Zayn’s forehead, grins when Zayn’s eyes slip shut and his body goes loose.

“Don’t stop,” Zayn whispers pleadingly, doing his best to thrust back and Liam smirks, pulls out and he’s jerking himself off the rest of the way.  A couple of firm strokes, thumb playing with the head for a few seconds before he’s releasing himself on the small of Zayn’s back, eyes crushed shut and lips panting into the back of Zayn’s shoulder.

Liam pushes them forward, doesn’t have the strength to support all of Zayn so he pushes them up against the shower wall, rests his chin on Zayn’s shoulder and his tongue licks over the various bites he’s left behind in the wake of their fucking.  He waits until Zayn’s breathing evens out before turning him, pushing his arms up and pinning them over Zayn’s head.  He leans in before Zayn can protest, soft kisses with no tongue, no force.  His lips are careful, guiding Zayn down from his high and when Zayn muffles his name against their lips, he smiles sweetly.

“Sorry, I just needed to,” Liam whispers against Zayn’s lips.

Zayn snorts, curled lips forming a smirk.  “Fuck off, Li.  I’m not a girl.”

Liam shakes his head with a grin but then doesn’t pull too far back, doesn’t balk when Zayn cautiously nuzzles his nose to Liam’s, snickering evilly.  There’s the side of Zayn he wanted to remember and he keeps Zayn’s hands pinned above his head, keeps their bodies sinfully close.

They’re walking hand in hand out into the pool area, naked and not caring.  They gather up clothing, Zayn sliding into Liam’s shirt and Liam manages to stretch out Zayn’s t-shirt without ripping it.  He smiles at Zayn over his shoulder, Zayn leaving most of the buttons of his shirt undone and it’s a bit oversized on his smaller frame but Zayn’s mouth is quirking into a smile while he’s hiking up his jeans.  When Liam buttons his own, he steps shyly over to Zayn, leaving his shoes behind.

“You know, I’m rather chuffed that Louis fucked up this whole thing with Niall,” Liam says, his voice still low and coated in sticky sex but the way Zayn’s face brightens leaves him not giving a shit.

“Why is that?” Zayn wonders, snickering while rolling up the sleeves of Liam’s shirt until they’re just above his elbows.

“Don’t think I would’ve ever met you, got to know you if Louis hadn’t royally fucked up that first date,” Liam notes, leaning in Zayn’s direction.

Zayn lifts his brow, snickering smile slipping over his lips as he eases an arm around Liam’s shoulders, pulling Liam’s larger body toward him and it’s not intentional the way he does it, but Liam’s nose buries itself into the skin of Zayn’s forearm, lips kissing over tattoos he’s yet to examine fully with his eyes.  He’s a bit stunned but he lets Zayn pull him in.

“Wasn’t the first time we met,” Zayn confesses lowly and when Liam turns, there’s a shy smile gliding over Zayn’s lips.

“It wasn’t?”

Zayn’s shaking his head, running a shy hand through his thick hair.  He clears his throat, Liam watching him search for courage and he rests a hand on Zayn’s hip for reassurance.

“Right after holiday.  Louis had some kind of ‘welcome back’ bender and you were there, pleasantly pissed but not at first.  Louis introduced us when you first arrived and we chatted for a bit about silly things,” Zayn admits, ducking his head.  “I was… I was quite blown by you but then Eleanor came and some more of Louis’ friends drug you two away.  And then you said goodbye to me when Louis drug you off to his room to sleep it off.  You even asked me for a kiss but I knew better.  Thought I’d have another chance.”

Liam’s eyes are huge, he can feel it.  His mouth is hanging open and he tries to remember it all but he knows anything involving Louis probably means too many mixed drinks that are one part juice, six parts vodka and it’s all a blur.  But he can see it in Zayn’s face, bottled up thoughts that are finally being released and he merely steps forward, drags Zayn in further.

“You never said anything,” Liam says dumbfounded.

Zayn snorts, shaking his head and he’s running a hand over Liam’s cheek.  “Didn’t think I was supposed to.  It was so long ago and, fuck, it was just some dumb crush I hung onto.”

“But –“

“Yeah, I know.  I kind of had a thing for you before Niall and everyone else,” Zayn says softly and his eyes are impossibly gold now, “I could’ve been _that_ guy a long time ago if I wasn’t so stupid.  Kind of loved you a long time ago.”

Liam blinks at him, a rush sinking over him and he’s crushing his lips against Zayn’s while trying to cram all of his thoughts into one place.  Zayn makes an appreciative noise, smiling against his mouth until Liam pulls back.

“You loved me before this Niall thing,” he whispers against Zayn’s lips.

Zayn laughs, it’s sweet and sickening but Liam loves it.  “I did.”

“And I love you,” Liam admits, forehead pressed to Zayn’s and it’s Zayn’s turn to look at him wide-eyed.

He doesn’t let Zayn say it back because he already knows.  He pulls Zayn into his arms, lips fastened to soft, chapped ones and he doesn’t worry about the way this could all ache later.  He doesn’t let the thought of it going horribly wrong by Christmas or around February or by the time the summer ends.  He merely shakes away his past as Zayn eases a hand behind his head and keeps him in the kiss.  Zayn keeps him in a place he doesn’t want to escape and there’s music in his head – _words can’t be that strong, my heart is reeling. This is that fresh, that fresh feeling_ – as he redefines what love means with Zayn buried in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this turned out to be something worth a read and I hope I didn't drag things out too much trying to slip some comedy in various parts. I figured it be nice for Niall to get a bit of a spotlight during a Ziam fic for once and I truly hope I captured the Harry/Louis dynamic in a fun way. I know I already did the Niall/Eleanor thing in my last story but I like the thought of those two being together and it snuck into this story on me.
> 
> I'm hoping there's someone out there who likes this but I'm happy with knowing people read it and at least smile a little bit.


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